#for fully 24 years of my life i thought the whole 'a voice piped up inside his head' thing was just like

[beaft]

finding out that most other people have an internal monologue fucked me up so bad i swear. what do you MEAN you have a little voice talking inside your head the whole time? does that not drive you nuts???

[cryptid4198-70]

Prologue "Just - Peachy"

A little disclaimer : It's been quite some time since I've decided to write anything, so I ask you pardon my rusty skills. This is a Bowser x oc fanfiction, however, I am debating if I should change it to be a Bowser x reader fanfic. This isn't edited or anything, simply a brain dump and a rough prologue. If enough readers are interested, I'll be sure to continue.

I looked similar to her. It made sense that I would be asked to play as her body-double while she went away. Aside from the fact I had green eyes, and had to dye my brown hair blonde, Princess Peach and I could have been twins. At least, outwardly. My brow rose as I watched her and the two plumbers leave under the gloom of night, wishing I was going with them. “ 'I need you to pose as me. Just for a few days, Rae. Please? I have an important visit to make, and I trust you to take care of the kingdom while we are gone.'”, she had said to me that evening as she finished stacking a few handfuls of official papers. My hands tightened their grip on the windowsill as she and the brothers disappeared from view.

A sigh escaped my lips and my fingers massaged my temples as I turned from the window. 'I don't know how to run a kingdom. Either this visit she's making is more important than she let on, or she has too much confidence in me.', I thought. It was insane! 'She loves the Mushroom Kingdom far too much to pull such a stunt flippantly. Peach, what is going on?' No answer was forthcoming. All I could do was make sure I didn't let her down. There was no time to waste, as tomorrow there was a council of the kingdoms being called; it was an annual meeting of all the rulers of the various kingdoms throughout the lands. There was much to catch up on, in order to prepare. I walked to the desk and sat down, my eyes scanning the multitude of papers waiting for me. 'At least she left me cliff notes...this is still ridiculous. How is it wise to leave someone with no prior training or experience in charge of your entire kingdom, on the eve of the annual council?', I wondered.

'There's only one explanation. Something has to be going on behind the scenes.' Chewing my bottom lip until it bled, I settled in for a night of reading. For a moment, I regretted ever following Mario and Luigi into the pipe that had brought us here in the first place. 'My stupid curiosity is going to get me killed.' A loud knock on the door made me jump. “Rae?”, a high-pitched, squeaky voice called. My eyes closed, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “Yes?”, I called back. The door to Peach's private office swung open and a toad peeked in. “Princess Peach had told me to check on you before she left. And she said that if you had any further questions, to ask me.” The pink-spotted toad stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her.

'If I have any further questions? Has Peach forgotten that she has spent her whole life training for this? And all I get is less than a 24 hour notice. Right before one of the largest, and most important, meetings of the year.', I grumbled internally. The toad blinked at me expectantly. I stared back. “I see. I suppose it's time to get serious. Tomorrow is the council of kingdoms meeting, and there isn't a lot of time for me to prepare. Who all will be attending?”, I finally asked, leaning back in the chair. The toad ran over to a volume sitting on one of the shelves and pulled it down. She ran to the desk, slamming down the atlas onto the desk. “Well!”, She began, flipping the pages until she found a map that illustrated the entire world. The toad slid the book toward me. A brow rose as I leaned forward. “This world is lot larger than I thought...”, I said skeptically. My face slackened as she started unfolding the chosen pages further, revealing that they had been folded multiple times accordion style in order to fit into the atlas. “Let the lesson begin!”, She grinned, excited at the prospect of explaining things to me. I groaned, propping my face up in my hands. 'Princess....please....come back soon.', I prayed.

…...........................................................................................................................................

The council of kingdoms had gone without a hitch. I stood, dressed as Peach, waving good-bye to the various rulers as they left to return to their respective kingdoms. Once the last one had gone, I turned my back to the bridge leading from the castle area to the main part of the city. “Whew..”, I sighed heavily. The pink-spotted toad gave me two thumbs up. “There is no way none of them didn't realize I'm not Princess Peach.”, I murmured. She winced, “Well, I think you were convincing enough. But....I'm fairly certain that Princess Daisy knew right away you weren't really the Princess.” That made sense. Princess Daisy knew her, and knew me; she often visited the castle and was a friend to us all. I was eager to get out of this ridiculous dress and high-heels. The mock-crown was an uncomfortable weight upon my head, reminding me of the responsibilities Peach had entrusted to me.

“Let's go inside, shall we?”, I asked, looking down at the toad. But she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking. My brow furrowed, goosebumps forming along my skin at the sudden shift in her demeanor. “Toa---”, I began to speak, but my words died upon my lips as a large shadow eclipsed us both. “What the...”, I breathed, watching the shadow grow past us. Turning around to see what had caused such a massive shadow, my green eyes widened. “OH,HOLY SH-!”, I started. “Princess, come on!”, my companion snapped out of it and grabbed part of the dress, as if she was fully intending to drag me back to the castle. My heart thudded in my chest as we both began to bolt toward the castle. So close, and yet so far away. Each movement I made felt slow and heavy. Like I was trying to run in a dream.

Bowser's battleship seemed rather intent on making itself at home in the courtyard. The toad screamed as a large chain barely missed us both. “Oh, fuck this.”, I grumbled under my breath, kicking off the red heels I had been forced to don that morning. Another chain shot forth from the ship, and I scooped up the toad to protect her. Rock, dirt, dust and grass were disturbed and flung through the air around us. Several toads ran from the castle, trying to reach us both. I waved my arm, “No! Get back!” Were they insane? All of them were punt-able sized, and too easy to hurt when compared to the massive balls and chains that were digging into the ground around us. And I didn't want to think about how the real Peach would react if she returned to find that there had been several casualties while she'd been away.

She was counting on me to protect them. Protect them all. “Go, run. I'll be right behind you.”, I said as I set the toad in my arms down upon the ground. She looked up at me with wide eyes, but quickly nodded. We began running toward the castle and the other toads, dodging and weaving all the way. “PRINCESS! WHAT'S THE RUSH?”, a loud, rumbly voice called from above. I froze, my entire body stiffening. 'Oh, shit. That's...that's Bowser.....WHY NOW?!', I yelled internally. “Rae? You have to follow me inside...”, the pink-spotted toad whispered, trying to tug me along. “If he catches you, and sees you up close....”, her voice quivered. 'Pretty sure Bowser would know right away....and who knows what he would do.'

The onslaught of anchors and chains stopped, and I bent over to speak directly to her and the other toads. “Get inside, all of you. You know what to do. Just as always. And make sure the Power Star is hidden and protected. But your lives take priority. No! Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Just- hurry!”, I urged them, ushering them forward. They hesitated, loyal to a fault. But eventually, obeyed. Knowing they would be safe, I turned and crossed my arms over my chest. I narrowed my green eyes at the ship parked in the courtyard. Thanks to the position of the morning sun, I could only make out the silhouette of the King of the Koopas.

“King Bowser. To what do we owe this pleasure? Ruining the courtyard and disrupting everyone's fine—HEY!”, I shouted, covering my face instinctively. Thanks to the sunlight, I hadn't been able to see properly and was unaware of what was headed straight for me until the last second. I felt a net encircle me, then quickly tighten. “HEY!”, I yelped again as I felt myself being yanked off the ground and watched in horror as I was unceremoniously hauled up. Realizing there was little I could do, I sat back in the net and folded my arms, glaring at the looming figure of the Koopa King.

Once I was dropped onto the deck of the battleship, the tension of the net loosened. Wasting no time, I thrashed about until I was free of the ropes. Making sure to keep my eyes lowered, I slowly rose up off the ground. 'Now what? The moment he sees my eyes...my cover is blown.' His boisterous laugh rumbled through the air as he celebrated. “Well, well, well. Miss me? It's been far too long,Princess.”, Bowser smirked. I risked glancing up at him through my eye lashes, my heart pounding in my chest. Suddenly, this pink dress was feeling too restrictive. Bowser was looking around, eyes narrowed as if trying to locate someone. “No irritating, ever-present Mario? How delightful! Finally, we can have some privacy to...chat.” He turned away from the railing of the ship, the whole vessel shaking as the anchors were being hoisted. 'He's not wasting any time... and the only reason he's not figured me out yet is because I'm wearing her perfume.', My thoughts rattled around chaotically like a green shell bouncing off walls.

I turned my back to him, biting my lip. “What's the matter, Princess? Chain-chomp catch your tongue? Or is it that you're so overwhelmed to see me again?”, He asked. I could hear his footsteps as he approached me from behind. I inhaled slowly through my nose, raising myself up and rolling my neck. “You forgot someone, Bowser.”, I said softly. “Who? The skinny one? Luigi? What's he going to do?”, Bowser chuckled. “No. Me!”, I retorted, turning around to face him as I yanked the mock-crown off my head. I tossed it aside, my eyes meeting his. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not Peach.”, I smirked. Shock flickered in his ruby eyes, his brow furrowing. There was a long stretch of tense silence.

Our eyes remained locked together. “Who are you?”, he demanded, closing the gap between us. “Oh, I am offended! We've met before. But in case you need a refresher, I am Rae. Princess Peach's assistant and personal guard. And body-double, when it's called for.”, I tilted my chin up and raised a brow. His eyes darkened, “You.” I grinned, “Ah! So you do remember me.” “Hard to forget someone so...unconventionally annoying.” We circled each other, sizing one another up. Of course, there was no real contest. I was merely 5 foot 3 inches tall, and I didn't have the same amount of physical strength he did. Nor did I possess the ability to shoot fire any time the mood struck me. “You're just mad I gummed up your canons with quick-set concrete and put sugar in your engines.” He reached out, gripping my wrist as he pulled me closer toward him.

I flinched involuntarily, but didn't break eye contact. “Oh, please. If I wanted to hurt you, you would be a smoldering pile of ash by now.”, he rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I'm aware. But what's left to be decided here is if you're going to leave or if you're going to over-stay your welcome.”, I hissed. Bowser laughed. “Where is Peach?”, he suddenly demanded, his voice lowering in pitch. We were almost snout to nose. “Not your concern.”, I shot back. My chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, but I willed myself not to back down. No matter how badly I wanted to. “Oh, but it is my concern. Where is she?”, Bowser growled. I set my jaw, remaining silent. “Fine.”, he finally said.

Bowser let go of me and shouted over his shoulder, “Ready and aim the canons! Fire on my command.” He glanced at me, sneering. “You wouldn't. You don't know if she's in there or not. And we both know you wouldn't put her in harms way. Not willingly.”, I said, sounding more confident than I felt. “Oh, I do know. See, if she was in there...she would have came out by now. Same with those brothers that always follow her like lost puppies. In fact, I'd bet the only ones in there right now are those Toads. Am I right, Rae?”, His sneer morphed into a full grin. I frowned. “Answer enough. So, here's how it's going to go. You either tell me where Peach is. Or I blow that entire castle into rubble.”

'Crap...he's not bluffing.', I realized, intently studying his face. But to admit he was right felt like a betrayal to Peach. Yet, so did remaining silent and risking the lives of her people. “She's not here. Princess Peach left me in charge until her return.”, I said cautiously, eyeing him. He tapped a claw against his chin, looking away as if thinking something over. “Interesting. So, she trusts you. She values your friendship.” My stomach twisted as he looked at me with a gleam in his eyes. “I can tell you won't readily tell me where she is. So, I'll just take you with me. And we'll have a grand ol' time until she sends word.” He began to walk away, issuing the command to put away the canons and make ready to leave. “Hey!”, I shouted, hurrying after him. “What is it?”, he asked, annoyed as he turned to face me.

“You don't know how long that'll be. And how is she supposed to know that you took me in the first place?”, I asked. Bowser spread his hands, that cocky grin returning. “Rae, come on now. Who else leaves behind such an obvious calling card? Who else has the same reputation? Princess Peach will know. Besides, her precious little toads are going to fill in any blanks for us. They never know when to shut up.” “Then that's something you both have in common.”, I retorted. He slowly lowered his hands, leaning forward. “What was that?”, He asked. I looked away, hugging myself. “Nothing.” He chuckled, “That's what I thought. Now, try not to be a pain and just stay there. Preferably without yapping the entire trip back to my kingdom.”

I glared daggers at his back as he walked away. 'Well...this is just...peachy.', I huffed inwardly. Turning around, I walked over to the side of the deck. Leaning over the rails, I scanned the windows of the castle. I could barely make out the terrified faces of the toads. Even though I wasn't sure if they could see me, I flashed them a thumbs up and a wide grin. A show of confidence that I didn't fully feel. The ship lurched and all I could do was grip the railing as I watched the Mushroom Kingdom turn into a tiny speck below us.

(Thank you for reading!!! As a last note, I am an adult and I do prefer to write toward adult audiences. However, I doubt I will ever post something N$FW. Yet, if I do, or if certain chapters ever dive into a heavier topic or need warnings - rest assured I will provide a full tag list or disclaimer before the chapter itself. If I ever forget a particular tag, do not hesitate to tell me.)

[honeysunned]

Forbidden II

Warnings: Cursing, Extremely misogynistic behavior

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, (Y/N).”

A week later, you found yourself at Spirit’s house, Mylene absent, because she was forced to babysit a younger cousin. That was always a downside of summer. School was out, but it was out for everyone, and somebody never wanted to watch their own badass kids.

“Yeah, you’re right. Anybody in my position would’ve been fooled. It’s not like these men walk around with a sign on their forehead that says they’re trash,” you agreed.

It had been one week since you had sex with Erik, in your best friend’s own house, no less. It had been mind-blowing, knocking whatever the hell that was with Antonio out of the water, but good dick didn’t cure heartbreak. You had really cared about your ex, and the reveal of his true colors really got to you.

“Besides, almost everybody’s first time is trash. Look at Mylene. Look at me,” Spirit said with a gesture to herself.

“Yeah, but y’all were kids. Mylene was 16 and you were 15. Antonio is 20 years old. That’s a grown ass man,” you complained.

“You know these boys don’t mature as fast. His driver’s license may say 20, but his heart and mind say 14,” she threw out, sitting in front of her mirror, now.

“I’m tired of that bullshit excuse. He and Erik are the same age!”

“What the fuck does Erik have to do with anything?” she asked, distracted as she applied some primer to her face.

You realized your slip up, smoothly covering it up.

“I’m just saying that we’ve all heard things about him. Either he really is that good, or all of these girls are lying…”

“True,” she agreed. “…but Erik is different. That whole crew is. I’ve heard things about your brother, too.”

“If you start talking about my brother’s sex life, imma throw this pillow at your big ass head,” you complained.

She laughed, digging in her makeup bag.

“You know how all the girls look at Hakeem. What you expect him to do? Say no?”

“Stop talking.”

“Alright,” she chuckled. “You’re coming with me, tonight, right? Mylene can’t come, and I’m not too familiar with that side of town nor those folks over there. They could be into some hardcore drugs and freaky shit, for all I know.”

You heaved a sigh, falling back onto her bed. You really didn’t want to go to, but you weren’t gonna leave Spirit at the hands of unfamiliar niggas in some part of town she didn’t know.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Find something to put on. Hopefully, you can get some dick, tonight.”

“Nah, I need a break from men,” you immediately threw out, making your way to her closet.

“Noo, what you need is a nigga who is gonna lay down the pipe like he should, and make you forget your bitch ass ex’s name.”

You had already gotten that out of your system, but you couldn’t tell her that, so you just kept your mouth shut. Part of you wanted to forget what happened, for the sake of your own ass and not angering your brother and best friend, but another part of you never wanted to forget it. You’d had a childhood crush on Erik when you were younger, when you and Mylene first met in middle school, but it was gone just as quick as it came. Erik was always a fuckin’ asshole, and nothing had really changed. Only now, he was an asshole who you had sex with.

After you showered and put on a new underwear set that Spirit had bought but never wore, you stood by her bed trying to decide between a short yellow romper, and a tight red dress. The romper was really flowy with sleeves that hung off the shoulder, but the red dress would definitely fit like a glove.

“We’re probably gonna be dancin’, and you know how you are,” Spirit said, looking over your shoulder.

You grabbed the romper without hesitation. She was right. You hated dancing but having to pull at whatever you were wearing every five minutes because it kept riding up. As you went to go step into the romper, Spirit let out a noise of appreciation.

“Um, I thought you said Antonio was trash?” Spirit demanded, pointing at the inside of your thigh.

You followed her line of sight, and cursed at the fading bruises on the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t even realized that Erik had been holding you that tight. You just wrote the soreness off to your inexperience.

Caught off guard, you weren’t sure what to say. After all, both she and Mylene knew the full details of what went down with Antonio, and she’d know that he didn’t do that. It didn’t take her long to catch on, letting out a tiny shriek before covering her mouth. She hit your arm with her other hand.

“Oh shit! You had sex with somebody else and didn’t tell us?” she paused, suspicion on her features. “Mylene doesn’t know, right?”

“No, she doesn’t know,” you sighed, pulling the yellow fabric up.

“Who? When?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not tellin’ you,” you said, sitting down in front of her mirror.

“…and why not? Why would you hide this from us? It was good, right?” she questioned, following you.

You nodded, unable to even voice how good it was.

“So why don’t you wanna tell me about it?”

She was visibly confused by all of the secrecy.

“Just drop it, Spirit,” you begged.

“You’re actin’ real funny, right now. Why won’t you tell me?”

“Spirit-.”

“Was he ugly? Married?”

“No!”

“Then fess up, ho!”

“…because I don’t want you to have to keep anything from Mylene!”

That caught Spirit off guard, and she crossed her arms over her chest. You could see her frowning in the mirror, confusion clouding her face for a moment before shaking her head.

“Of course we’d tell Mylene. Why wouldn’t we-?”

She cut herself off, mouth falling open and eyes wide as she stared at you in the mirror. You avoided her gaze, digging in your own makeup bag as she put two and two together.

“Aw, hell no. Fuck no! (Y/N), are you serious, right now?”

“Spirit, please…”

“Erik? Erik?”

“Just drop it-.”

“Just drop it? You fucked your best friend’s brother, and you expect me to just drop it? You a triflin’ ass bitch.”

“Spirit,” you screamed, glaring at her over your shoulder.

“I love you, you know I do, but that’s some foul shit, and you know it,” she defended, hands up in the air.

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know how she gets about her brother. He got away with murder growing up, and she was barely allowed to leave the yard. That favoritism shit was heavy in that household, and any girl she brought around the house always got caught up with Erik,” Spirit started.

You looked down, already knowing all of this.

“She couldn’t bring one friend over, not one, without him coming around and ruinin’ shit. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“Who even suggested this crap?”

You didn’t answer, and your silence was enough.

“Of course it was Erik’s ho ass,” she snorted. “When was this?”

“Last Saturday…”

“…Saturday? Damn, that wasn’t even a full 24 hours after Antonio. I’d be a little bit impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed with you, right now.”

“What am I gonna do? I can’t tell her, and what kind of friend would I be if I smiled in her face and pretended like this didn’t happen?”

“The same kind of friend who’d fuck your best friend’s brother.”

You glared at her in the mirror, but she wasn’t paying attention, suddenly jumping up.

“Oh shit!”

“…what?”

“Hakeem!”

You sighed, looking away and spraying some setting spray on your face.

“I forgot all about your brother…”

“I didn’t,” you grumbled.

“If he finds out, he’s gonna kill Erik, and not like figuratively, but like…’litcherally’.”

“I know.”

“Nah, I don’t think you do. Did you ever wonder why no niggas, and I mean none, approached you in high school?”

You paused, fully turning to face her, now with a frown on your face. You thought about what Erik had told you, but that was just for his friends, right?

“Yeah,” she confirmed your suspicions with a nod. “You were untouchable, because Hakeem and his entire posse were scaring dudes off left and right.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. It was something that had always bothered you despite the fact that you didn’t show it, but your two best friends having boys fawn over them while you sat there like a potato or something really got to you. You had never considered yourself ugly. You liked your skin, your hair texture, and your figure, but could never understand why guys just didn’t seem to like you.

“…what?” you whispered.

She nodded, loose curls bouncing on her shoulder.

“Yeah. You remember my friend, Isaiah, right?”

You nodded, a light skinned boy with a nice smile coming to mind.

“He wanted to ask you to prom junior year, but one of Hakeem’s friends found out about it, and told him. Hakeem scared the shit out of him, and he ended up asking that girl Dionne instead.”

You couldn’t even process what you were feeling, at the moment. Years of low self-esteem and insecurities was all because of your brother? What gave him the fucking right?

“When you say all of his friends…”

Spirit crossed her arms over her chest, bangles clanking together, with a sad smile on her face.

“Erik too.”

You released a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, eyes burning.

Life was funny. Maybe if Hakeem and Erik and their entire bitch ass crew minded their business, maybe you wouldn’t have jumped into a relationship with the first guy to show you some attention. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten your heart broken and slept with Erik. Maybe…

You shook your head, standing up as you swallowed down your anger.

“Let’s go to this fucking party.”

~

You’re tipsy. You were tipsy and a little angry, but that didn’t stop you from refilling your cup. The house party was in full swing by the time y’all arrived. Eyes were on you as soon as you walked in the door, Spirit’s gold dress almost matching her skin, and your yellow number contrasting nicely with your own. You walked in ready to drink, and ready to forget what Spirit had confessed to you.

The first hour or so was fun. You had been dancing with your best friend before some bold dudes approached the two of you, and y’all obliged. You were dancing, a smile on your face and a cup in your hand. You had been enjoying yourself, laughing and entertaining some little white boy who thought he was G-Eazy or something. He was a little handsy, but harmless. Everything was great…until it wasn’t.

A group of guys walked in, a very familiar group of guys. The smile had dropped from your face as soon as your eyes landed on your brother, his dark eyes roaming, already looking for his catch of the night, no doubt. The usual faces were with him, including the last person you wanted to see. Spirit sensed your change in attitude, and turned to follow your line of sight.

“Shit,” you heard her mumble. “(Y/N), just ignore them.”

You ignored her, pulling away from the guy behind you and walking towards the front of the house. She caught your arm, halting all movement, and you glared at her.

“(Y/N), leave it-.”

“No! Fuck him. Fuck all of them!”

You snatched your arm away, and she let you go, knowing how you could get. You stomped towards them, heels digging into feet, no doubt, but you didn’t care. Hakeem was a little surprised to see you there, it was obvious if his raised eyebrow was any indication. However, he seemed to be more surprised that you were acknowledging him.

In the past, when you both found yourselves at the same get-together, there was some unspoken agreement to just stay out of each other’s way. Only now, you knew that he never exactly held up to his end of the agreement. Fucking hypocrite, you thought. Before he could get a word out, your drink was in his face.

“Are you crazy?”

People around you backed up, some expressing outrage at getting wet too.

“Fuck you!”

You felt a hand on your arm, and you knew it was Spirit. Hakeem glared at you, looking at you like you’d lost your mind.

“I just bought this shirt, (Y/N)!”

“Do I look like I give a fuck? Fuck you and your wack ass shirt, Hakeem!”

You were drawing a bit of attention, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Fuck you,” you repeated, throwing your cup at him.

You suddenly looked between his friends, all of whom were standing by, unsure of how to proceed. You pointed at all of them, Spirit pulling you back as you saved Erik for last. Your dark eyes met his, a sneer on your face as you looked him up and down.

“Fuck all of you.”

She dragged you away, stumbling a bit as she pulled you up the stairs. She deposited you in an empty bedroom, shutting the door behind her. You wiped your face, hearing her turn the water on in the bathroom. Your hands were trembling, so angry that you could hardly think straight. It wasn’t long before she was wiping your face with a rag. You didn’t even notice that you were crying.

“High school sucked for me, Spirit. You know that,” you mumbled.

“I know.”

“I didn’t go to prom. I never had a boyfriend. I never even had a guy ask me out to the mall or sum’ shit,” you complained, the tears coming down harder, now.

“I used to think you knew what was up. Or…at the least had some idea as to why guys all but ignored you. It wasn’t until after we graduated that I realized you had no idea. How would I even go about telling you something like that?”

You blew your nose, realizing that you may have been tipsier than you originally thought.

“I thought there was something wrong with me!”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I thought about mentioning it, but then Antonio happened, and I just figured that there was no need. You were happy…”

“I was happy, because he was the first guy to show me some attention…because he wasn’t being scared off,” you snapped, standing up.

You walked into the bathroom, Spirit right behind you.

“I’ll be down in a little bit…”

“…are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, rinsing the rag out. “I just need a minute.”

She hesitantly nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be downstairs. If you’re not down in thirty minutes, I’m comin’ back up here.”

You sighed as she left the room, wiping your face. You didn’t know what kind of primer and setting spray Spirit had, but you were thankful that your makeup was still intact. You contemplated the point of even re-joining the party. Hakeem was irritated with you, no doubt, but it wasn’t like you cared. He could die mad about it.

Erik was down there, though, and you weren’t even sure you could be in the same room with him. You’d only seen him in passing over the past week as you were in and out of his house with Mylene and Spirit. You sure as hell hadn’t been alone with him since that night, and now knowing what you know, you didn’t think you wanted to be. Of course, life was funny that way.

You heard the bedroom door open and close, the noise of the party briefly reaching your ears. You stepped out of the bathroom, and shouldn’t have been surprised to see Erik there, a stupid look on his face. You rolled your eyes, tossing the rag into the sink before moving to walk past him.

“What was all of that about, (Y/N)?” he demanded, blocking your path.

“Move.”

“Nah, I’m not going nowhere until you start talkin’…”

You frowned at him, taking a step forward.

“I didn’t go to prom…,” you started.

He frowned, a confused look on his face as he ran his eyes over you.

“I didn’t go to prom, because any guy who probably thought about asking me was too scared to…,” you said, tapping his chest with a humorless smile. “…but you already knew that.”

Erik looked away, rolling his neck as he cursed.

“Yeah, ‘shit’ is right. All of y’all ain’t shit. Now move.”

“(Y/N),” he said, grabbing your arm.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, jerking away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Listen-.”

“Listen to what? What is there to listen to? The misogynistic hypocrisy that you’re about to lay down? Y’all can go around doing whatever and whoever the fuck you want, but I couldn’t even get one stupid date?”

Erik didn’t say anything, and you continued.

“I couldn’t even get one boy to tell me I was pretty? Ask for my number? I felt like I was invisible!”

“Hakeem just-.”

“Fuck Hakeem! Don’t talk to me about him. Are you some little bitch who does everything he says?”

That got under his skin, and you could almost see him bristle. He took a step forward, but you stood your ground.

“Obviously not,” he said with a pointed look at you.

“Is that what that whole thing was about last week? You’re givin’ me some bullshit about the thought of my first time being trash really bothering you, but… That wasn’t it, was it? The thought of my first time being with someone other than you was the root of the problem, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t even like that-.”

“Was that you trying to stake some sort of claim?”

“I told you that I had been feelin’ you for a minute.”

“Let me guess, since high school? When Hakeem roped you into his little thing or whatever, you had no problem agreeing to it…for selfish reasons…”

He didn’t reply, and you knew then that that was the truth.

“Saving me for yourself-?”

“Fuck, no, it wasn’t like that-.”

“You were better than Antonio, I’ll give you props for that, but as much as you wish you were, you will never be my first.”

He started towards you, and you stumbled back. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, and you finally took in his all black attire, locs braided back out of his face.

“…but I was the first to make you come. Twice if I remember correctly. You’ll never forget that.”

“You’re right. I won’t forget that, and when Hakeem asks me what I’ve been up to since the semester ended, I definitely won’t forget it.”

Erik laughed, the gold in his mouth winking at you as he brought his hand up to play with your gold hoops.

“Nah, you ain’t gone say shit,” he said, continuing before you could get a word in. “You care about my sister too much for that. Unless…you wanna risk her hatin’ your ass?”

You glared at him, knowing it was true.

“Fuck you, Erik.”

He tilted his head to the side, arms folded over his chest.

“You already did. I’m down for another round, though, if that’s what you-.”

“If you think I’m gonna even think about touching you again-?”

“You will.”

You barked a laugh, a ‘bitch please’ on the tip of your tongue when he approached you, thumb coming up to brush against your bottom lip. You froze, heart skipping a beat as his other hand came up to dance along your waist.

“Like I said… I made you come twice, and you won’t forget that.”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, feeling a familiar heat settle in your stomach. He brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth, barely enough to be called a kiss. You held your breath as he pulled away, the noise of the party reaching your ears as he opened the door.

“I’ll be waitin’.”

And then he was gone.

[allsortsofgeekery]

One of Us is Lying: Chapter 1

Synopsis: Five high school students, all from different social groups and ranks in the popularity hierarchy, walk into detention on Monday, September 24; only four walk out. Remy Kallagher was murdered, and the surviving four are all suspects. But who did it—Logan, the valedictorian and student council president, Roman, the star athlete, Patton, the adorable member of the homecoming court, or Virgil, the infamous school drug dealer on probation?

🚨IMPORTANT DISCLAIMERS🚨

I do not own this story or these characters. This fanfiction is based off of the novel, “One of Us is Lying”, by Karen M. McManns. I do not claim ownership to anything.

This fic will be dealing with lots of heavy and upsetting topics, so it is VERY IMPORTANT that you read the trigger warnings before you read.

The ending of this fic will be slightly different from the original book.

Word count: 1,750

Trigger Warnings: poisoning, drug mention, cursing, severe allergic reaction (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

Pairings: eventual analogical

Without further ado, let’s get to the story!

Logan

2:55 PM

Monday, September 24

“NF better end it with her boyfriend, JG, because one night away from her and he’s already sleeping with his girl on the side, KT. Sorry, babe!”

“Turns out the adorable little bookworm WC isn’t as do-no-wrong as we thought. Give her the shot, and she’ll steal your man—which is exactly what she did to her “BFF”, LJ. Turns out, hooking up with your best friend’s boyfriend doesn’t do wonders for your friendship—or your reputation. Back to the books, WC.”

“We’ve all heard about JK’s one night stand with QD from a post a few months back—but it’s apparently not so one-night-standy after all. The two were caught making out in the closet at Q’s Halloween party, making everyone wonder if they’re still going strong. Trick or treat?”

Logan Sanders stood at his locker, scrolling through the day’s most recent gossip posts. The lengths he’d go to to stall today. He usually pretended he didn’t care about the posts—most of the time, he really didn’t—but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he’d do anything to delay what was about to happen.

“Hey, bitch,” a voice said from behind him. Logan cringed inwardly. He tried to close out of the app, but it was too late. Remy Kallagher had already reached out, hand closed around his wrist and eyes set upon his phone screen. “Reading my very own posts?” Remy asked in a mock-flattered voice. “I’m honored, Mr. President. But it’s old news. Just you wait until tomorrow. You’ll love it.”

Remy’s eyes glinted in a way that Logan didn’t like. He yanked his wrist out of Remy’s bone breaking grasp and shook his head. “Believe me, Remy, my reading your posts is a very rare occurrence.”

Remy grinned like a Cheshire cat. “It won’t be for long.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to—“ he was cut off by a small buzz from his phone. There was a single message from Valerie Rosario, a girl on the Mathletes team with him.

“Hey! Are you coming to Ellen’s Coffee for practice today?”

A bubble that showed Valerie was typing appeared in the bottom corner of the screen, and then a second message was added:

“Jared’s here!”

Logan felt his face grow hot. Of course, he realized fully that among all of his extracurriculars and classes, it would be pointless and silly to pursue a romantic relationship. Even though Jared Williams had perfect, toothpaste-commercial teeth and polo shirts with his initials monogrammed into them and may very well be the first hot mathlete ever.

Regardless. Logan definitely didn’t care that stupidly smart Jared Williams was at Mathletes practice today. And he definitely didn’t care that he couldn’t make it today.

Remy leaned over and grinned his catlike grin. “Jared Williams, huh? Spill the Tea material or no?”

Logan went hot. “Spill the Tea” was Remy’s gossip app that the entire school read. He claimed he posted all of the gossip there to help people, but he really held it over everyone’s heads and used it to keep them in line. And it worked—ever since he had started the blog, nobody ever crossed Remy, because they knew he could dig up dirt on them. The whole school read “Spill the Tea”, no matter how much they hated it, though—it was their number one source of gossip and news. Even Logan wasn’t above it.

Logan had never been featured. Obviously. There was only one thing that could have possibly made it onto the site that concerned him, but Remy couldn’t know about that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan said, shouldering his backpack and shoving past Remy. He couldn’t be late for his sentence. His unfair sentence, he reminded himself. To his annoyance, Remy still tagged along, a pest that Logan couldn’t seem to shake.

“So, where’re you off to, Mr. President?” Remy asked, employing the nickname he had been using since Logan had been elected Student Council President. It was beyond infuriating. “Off to one of your extracurriculars?”

“Don’t I wish,” Logan muttered under his breath as he came to a stop in front of Professor Walker’s door. Remy looked at him expectantly, willing him to move. When Logan stood his ground, the color rising in his cheeks, Remy suddenly burst out laughing.

“You?” He said between snorts. “Oh, sis! What’d you even do?”

“Nothing,” Logan replied, his tone and expression even. “I was falsely accused.”

Remy wasn’t having it. “Sure, okay, whatever you say, Prez,” he said between snorts.

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Remy had already pulled the door open and stepped into the lab.

Logan took in the odd gathering. Definitely not the type of people he had been expecting—well, except for one. Virgil Macauley, the school’s notorious drug dealer, grinned like he had just won the lottery when he caught sight of him.

“You make a wrong turn?” He remarked, a shit eating grin on his face. “This is detention, not student council.” Logan flushed a fire engine red.

“Mr. Macauley,” Professor Walker said from behind the teacher’s desk. “This is not the time for commentary.” Virgil tipped his chair back and rapped on the desk with his fingers in reply.

Logan took a quick inventory of the other delinquents stuck in detention; other than himself, Remy, and Virgil, there were only two others: Roman Prince and Patton Hart. Neither seemed like the type to get a detention to him, but he supposed the students from the popular group were all wild cards. It was odd seeing Patton without his boyfriend. Even now, he looked utterly lost without him. Logan wondered bemusedly if it had taken a crowbar to pry them apart.

“Mr. Walker,” Logan began once he took his seat. Professor Walker looked up and quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. “Please. There’s been a mistake, sir. I don’t know how that phone got in my backpack, because it does not belong to me. This is mine,” he said, pulling it out of his backpack and showing him. Mr. Walker sighed and steepled his fingers.

“Mr. Sanders,” he began. “These are the facts. You are not supposed to have a phone in my classroom. I found a phone in your bag. You broke the rules, you suffer the consequences. Case closed.”

“But sir—“

“I trust I should not have to repeat myself, Mr. Sanders, unless if you would like a second visit?”

Logan fell silent, but the others—save Remy—were now staring at him with a newfound interest.

“Mr. Walker, I think we’re being pranked,” Roman declared. He brushed a sandy curl out of his eyes. “The phone you found in my bag wasn’t mine, either.”

“Mine, either!” Patton piped up, looking between the two of them with wide, curious blue eyes. “I always keep my phone in my locker, I promise!”

Patton looked so earnest that even Logan had to admit that Mr. Walker was being stubborn when he shook his head.

“Boys, you knew the rule. Put the conspiracy theories to rest. In the meantime, you are all to write a five-hundred word essay about how technology is destroying the fabric of society as we know it,” Mr. Walker said, handing out notepads and pens. Patton’s brows furrowed again.

“But...Mr. Walker, if we don’t have computers, how do we know when we hit five hundred words?” His soft features scrunched up in confusion. Walker merely tapped a finger on the pad.

“Count, Mr. Hart.”

Roman

3:07 PM

Monday, September 24

He could hear the sounds of baseball practice going on outside without him. Roman rested a hand on his cheek and gazed at the clock. He had only been in here for less than ten minutes? Good god, he didn’t know how he was going to make it until four. He had just started his third paragraph--written in perfect, loopy cursive--when Remy raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Kallagher?”

“Can I get some water?”

Mr. Walker rubbed his temples. “Don’t you have any with you?” Remy smirked and shook his head. Walker heaved a sigh. “Very well. There’s a sink with some cups by the wall. Be quick.”

Remy saluted lazily and got up. Roman turned his attention back to his essay--or tried to, rather, because at that very second, the sound of screeching tires squealed from outside. Already on his feet, Roman raced to the window.

There was a red Camaro that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years that had crashed into an ordinary gray Volkswagen. The accident looked minor, probably nothing more than a fender bender, but it was enough to get Mr. Walker moving.

“Mr. Sanders, keep the room contained. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said to Logan before rushing out the door to inspect the damage. But by the time they even turn to look back out the window, the cars are already pulling out of the lot.

“Huh,” Virgil breathed, pressing a hand to the window.

“Well...at least nobody’s hurt…” Patton started unsteadily. He bit his lower lip.

Remy had already backed away from the window and perched himself on a desk, picking up his cup of water. “Bitches. This is perfect.”

Roman quirked an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“You ever seen ‘The Breakfast Club’? This is, like, real life Breakfast Club.”

“I don’t understand what you’re referring to, Remy,” Logan said in his monotonous way of speaking. Remy rolled his eyes.

“Sure you don’t. Think about it. You’re all, like, walking movie stereotypes. The nerd,” he said, pointing his chin at Logan. “the homecoming prince,” nodding at Patton, “the jock,” a pointed glance at Roman, “and the basket case.” This earned him a growl from Virgil.

“Even so,” Logan started, his arms folded across his chest. “What does that make you?”

“The nuisance,” Virgil muttered from the far corner of the room. Remy narrowed his eyes at him for a split second before turning his attention back to Logan and grinning almost wickedly.

“I’m the omniscient narrator, Prez.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “In ‘The Breakfast Club’? As far as I know, there was none.” Remy’s almost-evil grin widened.

“Maybe not in ‘The Breakfast Club’,” he conceded. Then he grinned and held up the cup in a strange sort of toast to the five of them. “But there is one in life.” Then he drained his cup.

Roman glanced at Patton. Patton looked back, looking thoroughly confused and possibly a little disturbed. Roman opened his mouth to tell Remy to stop being weird, but Remy dropped his empty cup to the ground.

His eyes bulged, and he clawed at his throat. Roman at first thought that he was joking, but suddenly the others were standing, too, staring at him with looks of concern.

“Remy…?” Patton began, but Remy didn’t show signs of responding. Instead, he fell off of his desk and hit the ground with a thud.

Taglist:

@sparkletastic-cookiedough @mijako98

[lenaisanerd]

i know it’s expected that i be serene

When Clary texts Simon requesting Fullmetal Alchemist, he knows something's up. But Clary seems to be in denial, and so Simon dispenses the ultimate cure-all: Hanging out with her best friend. (ca. 3500 words)

tunes.

Read on AO3.

 This story was co-written with my darling @raisehades. Please enjoy the hard-earned fruits of many late-night Google Docs comment battles.

Clary: can i come ober

  Simon: Ofc

  Are u okay?

  Clary: yes i just want so talk and cuddle or something

  Simon: Okay. Want me to set up anything?

  Clary: fma? 2009?

  Simon: I gotchu

Simon was slightly worried.

First of all, Clary wasn’t usually this reserved in her texting. Her lack of exclamation points coupled with the request for her favourite show could only mean one thing: his friend was way more down than she was letting on.

But he would deal with that when she brought it up because, well, he was also happy; Clary and him used to do this a lot – go over to each other’s (parent’s) place to hang out and watch something they both more or less enjoyed and maybe even talk about their lives and their feelings and- stuff.

But ever since the whole… half-angel manic pixie dream girl mom reveal (the HAMPDGMR) and everything that went down in consequence of the HAMPDGMR, they simply hadn’t done this sort of thing anymore. Sure, they hung out with all their other friends, at parties at Magnus’ loft or karaoke night at the Hunter’s Moon. And while that was fun, it was different when it was just the two of them.

Even during their brief dating stint, there wasn’t much they did that they’d done as friends. Simon had enjoyed what they’d done together, of course, but looking back it had been obvious that this wasn’t ideal for them.

Ideal was this: Lugging the connector cable for the TV into the vicinity of his laptop, powering both up and then loading a site with English subtitles of Hiromu Arakawa’s masterpiece Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

Also ideal: Clary bringing weird snacks with unpronounceable names from the Polish bodega down the street from their old high school. That store had become their first stop after class when they were younger and would sneak candy into movie theatres or curl up on the couch in Clary’s living room and watch Audrey Hepburn flicks with Dot. Simon was almost certain he would be able to eat some and keep them down by now.

Well, actually, in a perfect world, Simon would have loved to cook something for Clary (the food at the Institute was a far cry from what any sane person would call comfort food. Or edible). But one of the results of moving out of his mom’s place just after he’d become a bloodsucking creature of the night was that he owned basically no dishes, or pots, or kitchen utensils.

Even compiling his stuff with Maia’s (who had lived next to a Chinese restaurant for her entire adult life) yielded five plates, one bowl, two chipped mugs, and somehow a ridiculously large amount of cutlery. So cooking anything more than a bowl of cereal was out of the question until they got around to buying some usable stuff. Simon could already see himself and Maia filling their birthday and Christmas/Hanukkah wishlists with basic household items for years into the future. Ah, the joys of adulthood.

Still, this was almost the Saturday morning of his dreams. In the past year, Simon had come to understand that while moments of normalcy were few and far between, when one came along they had to hold on tight for as long as they could. Which was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m telling you, Polish Bodega lady has to be a Downworlder. We just have to find out what flavor she is.” Clary started on her new favourite topic as soon as Simon opened the door. She draped her damp jacket over the back of a kitchen chair to dry, dropped a plastic bag on the table, and re-tied her wet ponytail.

Simon started rummaging through the contents of the bag. “Okay, one: I don’t like “flavors”, at all, two: how do you know she’s not just a normal human being who just happens to own a windowless shop where she basically lives 24/7? Oooh, you brought those weird milk drops!”

Clary had her back turned to him while she stretched as far as she could to reach the plates and mugs on one of the high shelves above the sink, not quite managing it. “She never sleeps. Sometimes I come by that store when I’m on patrol, and she must be there all night. Every night. And every day, too. Either she never sleeps, or she has at least two clones.”

“Maybe she has an identical twin sister.” Simon took pity on her and handed her the dishes. Clary took them and ducked out under his arm from between the sink and his body in one fluid movement. Then she set to digging through the fridge for some soda for herself, and a bag of A+ for him, hugging the plates and mugs to her body with her free arm.

“I think I caught her staring at my runes. She definitely at least has the Sight.”

“Oh, so your angel-ninja sense is tingling? Tell me, is there a type of demon that loves to disguise itself as an old lady and watch reruns of Polish soap operas?”

“There’s only so many demons that can be terrorizing Manhattan bankers at a time, you know.”

Simon let out an undignified snort of laughter, of the kind that, had he been drinking at the time, would certainly have made him exhale his drink through his nose. Clary stuck her head over the fridge door grinning triumphantly. Then she emerged fully from its depths with a bottle of coke wedged horizontally under her chin, the plates under her arm, right hand holding the mugs, and left hand holding the blood bag. Standing up was a precarious balancing act, and Simon rushed over to take the bottle from between her chin and collarbone. After he snatched up the bags of sweets from the table they continued their procession into Simon’s bedroom.

Maia and him had moved in together just after New Year’s, into a tiny two-bedroom apartment in Fort Greene. They had decided against sharing a bedroom, though, mostly because of their sleep schedules. As Maia had put it, one partner strangling the other because a certain vampire keeps making noise all through the night while a certain werewolf is trying to sleep is not very conducive to a healthy relationship. Of course, they often spend the night together anyway, although those weren’t the nights when they did much sleeping.

“Come lie down, thought you wanted to cuddle,” Simon said, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to him. Clary flopped down and threw her legs over his. Balancing the snack plate carefully on her lap she fluffed the pillows behind her and finally settled down.

It was several skipped episodes, an entire bag o’ blood, and a good two thirds of the coke later when Simon got to find out why  exactly  Clary was in such urgent need for Comfort TV Time.

“Did you know jat Ling’s name doejn’t need the ng sound at all? It’sh Lin in Japanese and”, Simon swallowed the milk drops, “the Chinese translation both, so they just changed it for us for some reason.”

“You’re going to regret eating those,” Clary said with such a comical expression of distaste on her face that Simon couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. I won’t mop it up, though.”

Simon was still grinning when Clary reached forward to pause the episode on a rather unfortunate still of Major Louis Armstrong in motion.

“Do you think Izzy would like this,” she said, suddenly serious.

“Who wouldn’t like Fullmetal Alch- ”

“You’re right. Of course she would. Continue.”

Simon took her vague gesture towards the screen as a command to unpause. About half a minute later she piped up again, this time not even bothering with the pause button. “Her favourite character would have to be Mei-Chang.”

“Really?,” Simon indulged, reminding himself that he had in fact watched this episode several times in his life(un-life?) already and could live (hah) with not catching every subtitle, “I would have thought Olivier, Lan Fan… or maybe Riza? One of the really cool badass ladies.”

“Izzy may be a really cool badass but trust me, she loves little girls with a passion for science. Did I tell you about that dinner party at Magnus’ place? She was off in a corner with Madzie all evening, talking about chemistry or something. It was adorable.”

“Yes, I – I don’t know how I managed to forget. You’ve told me about it... several times now.” Simon was quite proud of his wallowing pause here.

Clary said, “Well.” and when Simon looked over to her she was visibly re-invested in subtitles. He suppressed a fond headshake and decided to let her have this one.

The next time they got through a good fifteen minutes during which Clary only noticeably stopped herself from interrupting twice and Simon started quietly wondering if eating those drops was a bad idea after all.

“Could we invite her to something like this?”

“Izzy, you mean?”

“Ah, yes. I just mean, like, we’ve hung out at the Hunter’s Moon and the Institute and stuff but I don’t know, would she like just… watching anime? Snacking?”

Simon really did put up with a lot, huh. “I don’t know, what do you think?”, he said in his least exasperated voice and leaned forward once again to press pause. He looked over to Clary, who was searching through one of the bags of candy for the last red one with the utmost concentration.

“I think she’s probably never been able to do something like this but that… she’d probably like to try. And I guess it depends on the show if she’d enjoy it. Her attention span is better than ours’ for sure, though. Maybe I’ll ask her.”

“Instead of me?! I’m hurt, Fray.” Simon placed a hand over his unbeating heart and pulled what he hoped to be the most devastating pout since Shrek’s puss in boots. He probably didn’t succeed in that.

Clary repaid his efforts by hitting his shoulder. He whined out an ooow and curled up to smoosh his head into Clary’s side. Her shirt muffled his sigh, and she recoiled from his breath, pushing him away with a giggle.

“Simon, stop that! You know I’m ticklish!”

Instead of letting up, Simon wrapped his arms around Clary’s waist.

“Zis vasn’t my decision.” Simon was using his best Bela Lugosi accent. Clary’s eyes widened in mock horror and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “You brought zis on yourself. If Izzy is going to be your new best friend now, you must face...ze octopus!” His legs wrapped around Clary’s knees while she wriggled and squirmed and laughed.

“Hang on, what do you mean ‘my new best friend’? Simon Lewis, you’re not suddenly getting jealous, are you?” Clary asked when she had successfully freed herself from Simon’s grasp and they were both lying on their backs, looking at the ceiling.

“Pssh. No,” Simon lied. Clary had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Maybe you just have a crush on Izzy, ever thought about that?”

He had expected a pillow to the face for that tease, or another assault on his shoulder, or a bit of banter. What Simon had not expected was Clary suddenly looking all serious.

“Huh. You know, I’ve never considered that. Thanks, Simon,” she said, and Simon was quite proud of himself for being as good at identifying sarcasm as he was, but he really and truly couldn’t tell what Clary was thinking then. As his friend leant forward to unpause their series he decided she must just be a bit tired of antics for today. Understandable, really.

Yesterday’s summer storm had turned into persistent rain. It pitter-pattered against the fire escape and the windowsill, occasionally cutting through the sound coming from the TV’s speakers. During the peak of the heat wave, Maia and Simon had opened all the windows in the apartment to let in a breeze and had jammed whatever was handy at the time underneath to keep them from closing. There was a guitar foot rest wedged in the crack of Simon’s bedroom window.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“I definitely have a crush on Izzy.”

The pause button had never been pressed so quickly. It would have been a world record, if world record judges liked to hang out on rickety fire escapes peering through windows to see if random teenagers performed laws-of-physics-defying feats from the comfort of their beds.

Simon lay back down, face to face with Clary. She seemed way more casual than what Simon thought was appropriate for the situation.

“So…Izzy. Isabelle. Really tall, beautiful, kinda scary. Terrible cook. We’re still talking about our Izzy here?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Simon let that sink in for a minute.

“And, uh. How long have you known?”

Clary let out a hollow chuckle. “Consciously? About 30 seconds.”

Simon sat up. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Clary. I know you won’t like hearing it, but I’ve been your friend for over ten years, so I feel it is my duty to tell you this: You are such a dumbass.”

With a big sigh, Clary rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. Simon could barely make out her voice, but what she said sounded distinctly like a whine.

“What was that?”

Clary came up for air. ”I know.” Definitely whiny. With a very long vowel sound.

“I mean, you’re in so deep that I’m surprised you don’t need scuba gear yet.”

A groan.

Simon bumped her shoulder gently with his elbow. “Did I make you skip to the ‘wallowing in your own misery’ phase of having a crush?”

“No, it’s just...I can’t believe I never noticed.” Clary sat up, her legs crossed, facing Simon. “I only spent, oh, the last year with Izzy, every day. And– and looking back on some… things, it’s becoming really clear that I’ve had a crush on her for a while. And now I just feel like the biggest idiot in the world, and also what the fuck do I do now, Simon?” While she spoke Clary had let her head sink into her hands. Simon was of the opinion that they had just passed ‘wallowing’ and were well on their way to “breakdown”.

Simon leaned forward and, as gently as he could, pried Clary’s hands away from her face and held onto them for safekeeping.

“Hey, slow down, ‘cause this is bringing back really bad memories of pre-finals all-nighters.” This at least got a little smile out of Clary. “Now, can we back up just a bit to the ‘things’ you’re currently re-examining?”

Clary thought for a moment and then answered slowly, as though she was choosing her words with care. “Like, for example, why I love when she does my makeup. She’s really focused and just gets so close to my face and then she does that thing were she bites her lip and narrows her eyes, and sometimes I just want to lean forward and… kiss her?”

Immediately and seemingly instinctually, a grin tugged its way up the corner of Simon’s mouth. “Should I go get that scuba gear?” Clary rolled her eyes in response, but continued her recounting of Isabelle’s many virtues.

“And, uh, I always pick Izzy as a training partner, even though she does not go easy on me, because I kind of like when she kicks my ass.”

Simon only held in a dirty joke by viciously biting his own tongue. Clary was in distress. In distress.

His friend looked up at him from behind a strand of hair as if sensing his struggle but, judging by the nearly imperceptible untrackable movement of her eyebrows, refusing to acknowledge it. She headed on.

“Like, Izzy isn't really like anyone I've ever met before? And it's so - uh, exciting? Just to see her, like, do things her way. From the start she's made me feel like I belong, when, like, no one else really bothered to try?” Clary exhaled and shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe that's a bit much. I mean, what if we start dating and it immediately goes sideways? It’s just - we have too much history together. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense?”

Simon frowned. “No, I get it. She's really important to you.” He tilted his head to catch Clary’s gaze again. “And I know you’re really important to her. I don’t think one bad date could end your friendship. Also, you’ve known her for a year. If you want to call that ‘too much history’, I guess it might be, but when has that ever stopped you?”

Clary barked out a laugh. “Yeah, our relationship wasn’t exactly a success, though.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Izzy isn’t me. And you aren’t the same you you were a year ago. Things are different.”

Clary looked ready to argue again, but kept quiet. Her body language was singularly vulnerable but her expression was more thoughtful than anything, brow furrowed tightly. She picked absently at her fingers which were still stained with oil paints, green and purple and gold. The rain continued its assault on the fire escape.

Eventually, after a long moment of silence, Clary stretched out on the bed next to Simon and, tugging at his shoulder, gently nudged him to lie down too. Clary tilted her head so it was lying against his shoulder and they lay there listening to the city they had been hearing their entire lives. But it was different now, wasn’t it? Simon had super vampire hearing and Clary had her angel ears and this wasn’t the city they had known anymore, because they knew what hid under the surface. But then, well, New York had never been the city they thought they knew. Simon had meant what he’d said: Clary had changed, and he had changed, and their old world felt lifetimes away. A year ago he would have said this was a bad thing. Today, he... wasn’t so sure.

“Should I tell her, do you think?”

“Hmm? What?”

“Izzy.”

“Oh.” Simon tried to get his train of thought off the existentialist detour track. “Uhh,” he said, intelligently, “I don’t know. Give me a sec.”

“Yeah, of course. Can you think while we watch?”

Simon nodded and Clary unpaused the episode. She propped her head up on her hand to get a more comfortable angle at the screen, and Simon’s eyes caught on the rune on her neck, right against the edge of her jawline. That was the first one, the healing rune that had seemed so out of place the night he’d found her by the church. By the Institute. Now, he couldn’t really imagine Clary without the runes, each a different part of her new life. There were the quick, simple ones Jace had drawn in the beginning, joined by the strong, decisive strokes of Isabelle and the slender script that indicated Alec, and of course Clary’s own hand, elegant and curving. Some for protection and some for strength, for courage and speed, fresh ones and older, darker marks. There was a story for every single one. A bit of experience. A battle won or lost.

He didn’t often dwell on this, but it sometimes occurred to Simon just how strong his best friend was. She had been through so, so much and come out on the other side a victor, maybe through luck, but also through sheer stubbornness. It was one of the things he loved (and sometimes loathed) about Clary. Simon was extraordinarily grateful that, even though both of them had lost a life, they had gained a new one, and one that had the other in it.

“Clary.”

She turned her head so she could look at him. One side of her face reflected the  flickering lights of the TV. “Yes?”

“I think you should do what you think is best. Trust your gut. You’re gonna be fine.”

Clary looked disappointed. “That wasn’t much of an answer, oh great oracle,” she said.

“Well, that’s the only one you’re gonna get. This oracle is closed for the day,” Simon replied. He crossed his arms over his chest to emphasize his statement. Then, very quickly and stumbling over his words a little, he added: “I just really respect you and I think you’re really smart and have good judgement, and you can sort this out for yourself. Also if anything goes wrong this means you can’t blame me, so–” The rest of the sentence was cut off by Clary rushing to hug him. Her shoulder banged into his chin rather painfully. He would, of course, not have it any other way.

“Thank you, Simon. I love you.”

Simon smiled into Clary’s shoulder. “Love you too, Fray.”

[5hfanfiction]

just the girl - the click five

longerr_hours on watt pad, check out my stuff

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“I don’t know Dinah it’s just something about like, everything about her is so amazing,” Camila sighs, letting her body sigh with her as she watches the girl of her dreams across the cafeteria. “If she punched me in the face I’d say thank you,” she adds, not really talking to Dinah, more herself as she daydreams. “I can’t find one thing wrong with her.”

“She hates you,” Dinah pipes up, smirking when Camila snaps out of it to smack her arm before returning to her staring. “She’s a huge bitch whenever she gets the chance because she thinks it’s funny, and not to mention she-”

“Those are minor details Dinah,” Camila cuts in, not moving her eyes but sick of her friend’s common rashing of her girl. “She’s a bitch in a loving way, and it is funny, most of the time and she’s perfect,” she says and if it weren’t for the dreamy tone in her voice, Dinah might’ve kept arguing but she knows it’s pointless when Camila’s like this.

Which is 24/7.

“Why don’t either of you make an official move then?” Dinah asks, picking at her sandwich and deciding to steal Camila’s Nutella and pretzels instead since she’s too focus don Lauren to notice. “Like are y'all not tired of this yet? It’s like a never ending honey moon phase without the dating part,” she continues, rolling her eyes when she notices Camila probably isn’t paying attention to her.

It takes Camila like a full minute to reply which proves Dinah’s last thought, “That’s why we don’t make a move,” Camila answers with a shrug, turning to face Dinah for a second and scowling when she sees her food in the girl’s hands. “Why ruin a honey moon phase just to be official? It’s not like we’re not basically dating anyways,” she says, and okay she’s got a point.

Dinah just doesn’t understand how this has worked this way of so long.

Camila is, well she’s easily attached and she’s been attached to Lauren since their freshman year.

Dinah remembers it like it was yesterday, a pool party with their whole class and like, the minute she saw Camila’s jaw drop at the sight of Lauren Jauregui in a bathing suit, she knew her friend was screwed. (Metaphorically of course, maybe literally to, she isn’t quite sure).

Camila shocked them all by actually approaching the girl, actually holding a conversation, and normal socially awkward Mila be damned, the girl was on fire.

They spent the whole day together, Camila smiling more than she ever had and Lauren ignoring all of the boys following her like lost dogs in favor of the cutest puppy of the bunch. Camila told shitty jokes and Lauren laughed at them more than anyone had in the girl’s life, which is what Dinah thinks really got her attached.

She told shitty jokes, and shitty pick up lines, and Lauren was eating it up like pie, smiling away and letting her socks get charmed off and really, Camila was on fire.

Maybe that’d why Lauren decided to push her into the pool.

It wasn’t in a rude way, Dinah would’ve been on that girl faster than a guard dog if it was, but it wasn’t. It was in a flirty way and that made her like, she was happy because she thought maybe her friend was finally going to man up and get the girl (she’d spent all of middle school denying her sexuality and Dinah was eager to see her get into her shoes finally).

But here she is, almost four years later still watching her friend pine hopelessly.

It wasn’t that Lauren was leading her on. No it was actually kind of the opposite, they were basically dating and they basically had been since that pool party freshmen year. The problem was that Lauren was too in love with teasing Camila for the girl to make a legit move.

They’d been on dates, and thanks to Lauren’s inability to keep a secret (in her defense she was too excited to hold it in), everyone knows they’ve kissed and etc., but they aren’t official. Dinah’s thankful that the school seems to ship it. Hell, even the annoying boys that used to try to get into both girls’ pants have stopped in favor of shipping them.

Dinah knows how deep Camila is and it would hurt her if it weren’t for the innocence of their relationship. Lauren may like messing with her but it’s not like, she’s not legitimately messing with her. She knows when they’ve hung out whenever they have because Camila is especially happy that day, and she knows when they’ve talked in a class because Camila is especially dreamy at lunch.

The fact that Camila still fangirls over her is, well it’s kind of confusing and if Dinah wasn’t so annoyed by how often it is she’d think it’s the cutest thing ever (okay she does think it is, she just claims otherwise for show).

“I mean, damn her hair, her body, her mouth… her eyes, damn, fuck, shit, holy hell her eyes,” Camila continues to freak and Dinah tunes back in, wondering how long she’d blocked out the girl. “She’s looking back at me again and holy shit, those eyes,” Camila continues and Dinah rolls her eyes, turning to face said girl who sure enough, is looking back at Camila with the smirk that seems to always be in place.

The only reason Dinah has let Lauren keep up this back and forth is because she’s never crossed a line that isn’t fine. Sure, she refuses to let Camila really ask her out officially, but she’s never dared to date anyone else.

Dinah doesn’t have a problem with Lauren because Lauren is as in love with Camila as Camila is with her.

She sees the way she looks at her in class, when Camila is in her zone and focused. They’ve always had social studies together and Camila is as passionate about debating politics with teachers and annoying students as she is about flirting with Lauren, so it’s probably the only time her eyes aren’t fixed on the raven haired girl.

But Lauren’s eyes are always on her.

And sure, sometimes Lauren will tease Camila about her debating, call hot hot headed and say her “inner try hard lawyer” is showing, but it’s the fact that Lauren knows she wants to be a lawyer and the fact that Camila always smiles brightly and compliments something about Lauren in response (making the girl have to hide her blush) that makes Dinah okay with it.

And sometimes, sometimes when Camila’s jokes are like, when they’re really shitty the girl will laugh at them, not with them, but Camila never seems to care, priding herself fin her ability to make the girl laugh (then talking about how magical the sound is for hours later on).

There’s times though, and this is why Dinah is hesitant to be fully supportive, that Lauren will shut her out. She’ll ignore Camila for days on end and refuse any sorts of communication.

Camila will be, well she’ll actually still be pretty happy, eager to win back Lauren’s laugh and in the end it’s the look on her face when she does that make sit okay for Dinah.

Lauren might not always be responsive but Camila knows not to give up on her because of it, and once she wins her back she keeps her for a while.

And Dinah saw Camila’s emo middle school years and she hasn’t seen the girl as anything but happy since Lauren’s been in her life.

The only time she ever is sad is when college acceptance letters come out and she’s been rejected from Yale, which, it’s Yale, she wasn’t expecting to get in but it still hurts.

Dinah isn’t the one to comfort her though, she would have but Lauren beats her to it.

Dinah gets the text about it around the same time as the raven haired girl does, and she doesn’t know that because Camila tells her, but because Lauren runs out of class to call in sick (later Dinah finds out she was headed straight for Wendy’s to get her girl a four for four).

Lauren may taunt her and tease her some times but she’s there when it counts and usually when it doesn’t too. And Camila is still always smiling, which makes Dinah think maybe she just doesn’t get it.

They’re like, and it’s taken Dinah a lot of internal debating to come to the conclusion, that they’re the best couple ever.

It’s not until the day after graduation that they officially become a couple either. Lauren officially asks Camila to be her girlfriend at like, eight in the morning (brought her coffee and everything), and even though Camila isn’t usually a morning person that’s the best moment of her life. They’re both going to New York City for college and yeah it’s Lauren who asks Camila, not the other way around.

Dinah thinks maybe she won’t mind the hours of fangirling she knows is going to happen the next day when she hears the news. And she doesn’t, because even though Camila’s been smiling since the day that she met the green eyed girl, it’s seems like a billion times brighter and yeah, she ships it.

[auroraphilealis]

Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) Chapter Eleven

Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) 11/24

Genre: Chaptered, fantasy AU, Prince!Phil, Thief!Dan, romance, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff, slow burn (like serious slow burn)

Warnings: some violence, mentions of death (no main characters), dark magic, descriptions of wounds/blood, some hints of sexual scenes (but no actual smut), murder, dangerous situations, stealing/thievery

Summary: Captain of the Royal Guard and Prince of Morellia, Philip Lester has never been given the chance to find love. Instead, he’s run from a system that works to end class differences and improve equality for its citizens. Happy as he is to make the world a better place, Phil can’t help feeling bitter towards his ancestors for making it impossible for him to find someone who will actually love him for more than just his title, and strives instead for a life of justice and doing good - only to meet his match in the King of Thieves, a man who will change everything he once thought he knew in life. Together, they must depart on a quest to save the kingdom, and, in the process, destroy their differences and find their own form of love.

Word count: 240,000+

Updates: Sunday

Thanks so much to @botanistlester for betaing this giant monster, as she’s been super helpful and encouraging with her little comments and endless excitement. We couldn’t have done it without you <3

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil

For reference, @snowbunnylester is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

(AO3 Link)

Chapter Eleven

By the time Dan pulled open the door to lead Phil out of the room, Martyn was leaning against the wall next to Phil’s door with his arms folded over his chest and a heavy frown on his face. He looked haggard and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his mouth a hard, thin line.

"Finally," he growled, taking them both in, eyes quick about it, before he turned away.

In response, Dan reached up to make sure his hood was fully down again, even though Martyn had already seen his face the day before. Dan was still a wanted thief in this castle, and he was taking no chances.

"We're in the library," Martyn said tersely, repeating what he’d said earlier and seeming a bit angry about it as he led Dan and Phil down the corridor away from Phil’s rooms. "Mother stayed with Cornelia and the sorcerer - I don't trust that guy - but they wouldn't let me stay with her." Martyn's voice broke a little, but he kept talking anyway. Dan kind of admired his strength. "Anyway, we've made some headway on the dragon. Now you've finally let your thief out of bed, brother, I'm hoping we can make some more progress breaking this curse."

Dan held back a chuckle at that. He couldn't help the small sense of pride that he'd done that - he'd kept Phil distracted all morning; and while things might not be perfect between him and Phil, they were still pretty damn good from where Dan was standing. He gave Phil's fingers a reassuring squeeze in his, their hands still pressed together. He could deal with Phil’s family for a while, even if he’d much rather have Phil on his own and sneak out to begin this mission. But they couldn’t exactly go and find a dragon without help, much as Dan hated to admit it. Phil’s family, with all their resources, would be much more useful in this case than doing everything on their own. The priority was to help Cornelia - for Phil’s sake.

So Dan held his tongue and followed Martyn quietly, hand still in Phil’s.

As the three of them wandered down the now empty corridors of the castle, Phil stared at the back of his brother’s head and felt something twist in his gut. All he wanted was to reach out and comfort his best friend in the world, but he couldn’t. At a time like this, Martyn would view it as nothing more than Phil regarding him as weak; not to mention, Phil had a terrible feeling not talking about this was the only thing keeping Martyn together right now, and he didn’t want to be the one to break that. All he really wanted was to make this better for his brother, and while he would never regret the morning he’d spent in bed with Dan, he did feel more focused now on the task at hand.

It helped a bit that Martyn’s voice was kind - or, as kind as it could be, when he was under such stress. Still, the way he voiced his concern over Phil having kept Dan all tied up in his bed that morning didn’t echo any malicious intent, and it was more reassuring than Phil could say to know that his brother understood.

Phil was going to do everything he could to save his family now.

"I don't trust the sorcerer either,” Phil agreed gruffly. “But the King of Thieves seems to have something on him, or he wouldn't be here at all. I trust him, so we'll just have to believe in the sorcerer for now. Mum will look after them both. She's stronger than you know," he added, trailing after his brother as calmly as he could manage.

“I do have something on him,” Dan piped up, just to ease some of the tension. “He’s a dick, but he does know dark magic.”

At the unimpressed look that earned him from both of the royal Princes, Dan shut his mouth again and went back to leaning into Phil’s side. Martyn was perhaps less lenient than Phil, so Dan should probably learn to watch his tongue.

"As for headway, what kind of headway? Have you located a dragon?" Phil asked Martyn, all but ignoring Dan aside from a reproving squeeze of his fingers.

Martyn shrugged lightly, leading them around passageway after passageway until they came upon a central tunnel to the Castle libraries, quite different from the archives, and yet still suffocating on Phil's lungs. The entry passageway was low ceilinged and always made Phil feel like he was being led to his death into some dark, empty crypt, despite him knowing it would open and widen up a little further down. Still, because of the company he kept, Phil had to do his best to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Dan, however, noticed the slight tensing of his shoulders, and glanced around to notice the decreasing space and the lowering ceiling. Of course. He nudged his shoulder once against Phil’s, a quiet show of support that hopefully wouldn’t embarrass him in front of Martyn.

The quick flash of a smile that Dan got back was enough to let him know he’d done well.

"Kind of,” Martyn answered Phil, seeming distracted now, as if entering the library was setting his mind back on what he’d been researching. “Father and I have discovered where the dragons settle, and unearthed rumors that have gone over our heads in recent years. Seems there’s been attacks on neighboring kingdoms by a beast, too small, by some standards, to be a dragon of past time. Father and I believe it may still be one, however, guarding a hoard of treasure and just as ferocious as the stories say, so prepare yourself, brother,” Martyn insisted, tossing a glance over his shoulder that was equal parts determined and distressed.

Phil could understand. Martyn had never wanted Phil to join the guard, had always feared for his brother’s life, and now, to save his betrothed, he was sending said brother on a suicide mission.

No. Phil couldn't think of it like that. He would find that dragon, get its scale, and come home safe for the good of his whole kingdom. Phil set his jaw, and continued after Martyn.

At least thoughts of what he had to do were distracting him from the narrowness of this passage, and the tightening of his chest in fear. It was hard to breathe, but Phil was used to pretending, and ignored it as best as he could.

"Of course," Phil eventually agreed, his voice a quiet murmur. In front of him, Martyn’s shoulders were squared - Phil recognized the way he held himself; he was angry. Phil could hardly blame him. He knew exactly what was on his brother’s mind - thoughts of saving his one true love, and protecting his brother, but being unable to do both.

It amazed Phil that Martyn hadn’t suggested that he go in Phil’s place. Phil never would have let him, but it would be just like his brother to press for it. The realization that he hadn’t told Phil much. This situation, even Martyn understood how serious it was.

The passageway leading to the library suddenly grew even more narrow, and Phil’s breathing hitched for just a moment. He felt Dan’s fingers tighten in his, the irony of Dan comforting him for his fear when not that long ago he’d used it against him just floating past in his mind before the overwhelming panic began to seize him and make it difficult to think.

He could do this. He could make it to the other side and be fine, he just needed to… breathe.

Yes. Breathe.

It was a good thing both he and his brother had gone silent.

As the library finally started to come into sight, the narrow corridors finally widening out into a broader room lined with shelves and desks and the smell of old parchment, Dan nearly squealed. The silence of the room was far from oppressive, but was rather a comforting cocoon of peace that matched the wild array of books leaping from every corner of the room. Shelf after shelf, row after row, aisle after aisle of books and scrolls faced them, containing more knowledge than Dan had ever seen collected in one place, and Dan had been around a lot. His fingers itched, and he desperately wanted to squeak and run straight to the nearest scroll he could get his hands on.

As it was, Dan just gave an intake of breath, eyes wide as he took in the enormous number of scrolls and books contained in these tight passageways. He fumbled for a moment, stopping just long enough to pull Phil to an awkward halt that made the both of them almost trip over their feet, but Dan barely noticed. His gaze was too caught up on the shelves, and the thought that his father would have absolutely loved this place, were he still alive.

Phil heard it when Dan drew in a sudden breath, fumbling a little, and despite his own panic, he turned to look at Dan, wanting to make sure all was okay. What he wasn't expecting was Dan to have something akin to delight in his eyes. Phil turned back ahead, wanting to know what treasure Dan had seen, but then he saw the scrolls and books around him, recalled their discussion of the fairy tales just before, and grinned to himself. So Dan enjoyed reading, then. That was information Phil could store for later. That was something he could give to Dan. Scrolls and books, or just time in the libraries.

Distracted as he was, for a second the panic didn't seem so bad, and then they were out of the small space that was the entrance to the library, out of the first small room, and in the clear. Able to breathe more easily again, Phil finally relaxed.

The slight pause in their steps did not go unnoticed by Martyn, who span to face the both of them with an unimpressed glare. Dan glared right back - books were important, and Dan could be forgiven for stumbling a bit in this room. Just because he hadn’t grown up surrounded by anything he could ever want.

"Don't worry too much about the dragon," Dan said lightly to Martyn, wanting to let his frustration out somehow. "I mean, your brother has quite literally chased me across rooftops and down holes, and I’m used to disappearing from sight. And if anything does go wrong - well, I’ll be there to save him, so don’t worry your pretty little head."

Dan couldn't stop a small note of derision entering his voice. Phil, he might have a soft spot for, but the other royals had done little to earn Dan's favour. Aside from the King, perhaps. Dan quite liked him. Martyn, though - Martyn still rubbed Dan up the wrong way. It was like he had absolutely no idea what life outside his perfect palace walls was like.

Dan opening his mouth again was not ok with Phil. He could hear the derision in the way Dan spoke to Martyn, could tell he was partially making fun of them both, and his fingers tightened around Dan's as Martyn turned to toss a frown over his shoulder.

“I’ll be forever in your debt if you do save my brother, yes,” Martyn replied, his voice going soft for all of a moment, before he continued, “But one day, I will hear all about what my brother has been doing with you, and I’ll enjoy every minute of laughing at your expense. For the time being, I’ll just have to laugh at how thick the sexual tension is between the two of you, and enjoy the fact that my brother has yet to let you into his pants, no matter how badly you seem to want him.”

Instantly, Phil’s cheeks went flaming red, and he tossed a glare his brother’s way that Martyn merely grinned at.

“Martyn!” Phil hissed, mortified, as his fingers tensed around Dan’s, who was merely chuckling to himself in response.

Was everyone just going to tease him, now? Why had he surrounded himself with so many sharp tongued people in his life?

But Martyn merely laughed and, as they rounded a corner deeper into the library, so did the King.

Dan slightly wanted to kick Martyn for that response, but that would require him to let go of Phil's hand, and he kind of didn't want to do that, well, ever, so he settled for simply chuckling derisively instead. Martyn could be a little more grateful, seeing as Dan was quite literally going to save his future wife's life, not to mention Phil’s, most likely.

But then he was being pulled along by Phil to the library proper, where the King was seated at a table, clearly having caught the tail end of their conversation. His beard and cloak were pulled tight around him, but he wasn’t wearing his crown, and the chair he sat in was just as plain as all the others in the library. There was nothing special, nothing to suggest that this man wasn’t simply another member of the palace court, rather than the King himself.

Dan approved. He could definitely grow to like this man - no matter what he’d thought of him in the past. Nevertheless, Dan still didn't bow to him, instead sending the King a sharp smirk. The King smiled in response, and yes, out of all the royals, the King was definitely Dan's favourite (aside from Phil, of course).

"Father," Phil greeted with a little bow, using his grip on Dan’s hand to pull him over to the table where his brother and father seemed to be set up. He wasn’t expecting his thief to bow to his family, and neither did the King, it seemed, as no one made any question when Dan merely smirked.

The King inclined his head to both of them, ever smiling. Phil could see the weariness behind his eyes, though, and it made his heart ache. The constant reminder that no one was safe right now haunted Phil’s mind.

Slowly, he drew out a chair for him and his thief, and settled in for debriefing. He was in Captain mode, and no one could stop him now.

"Well then,” the King started, amusement still clear on his face, but the laughter died down, now. Phil could see the tension around his eyes, the exhaustion in his features. “Now that you two love birds are up, I suppose we can properly get started.”

The King stopped to take a deep breath, and then pushed a tired hand through greying hair. Phil did his best to tamp down on his emotional reactions to these things, the looming terror that his father would die before his time now, with this curse hanging over their heads. Now was not the time to be feeling; he just needed to act.

“The castle has been put on lockdown, temporarily. Very little has been said to those within our walls, but your mother and I will make a statement in the main hall once you have gone, to protect your escape from here. I want no one to follow you, in case - in case,” the King said, evasive as ever, but Phil knew his fear.

There were those, even within these walls, who’d been invited to the Crown Prince’s wedding, who might use this curse to their advantage for anarchy, for revolution, for power.

Phil nodded his head curtly.

“We have the Sorcerer making potions for those who have been effected, teaching our most trusted of nursemaids how to spot the signs of corruption, and how to administer the antidote. The effects will not last long, however, according to your… dark magician. They will merely prevent too many more people from losing consciousness, and going into a coma like state, like Cornelia.”

Here, they all had to stop, staring down at their hands while they waited for Martyn to pull himself together. The very mention of his almost-wife had caused a pitiful sounding whine to escape his lips, unlike any Phil had ever heard before, and he could hear that his brother was crying.

Their was a sob, a sniffle, and then a clearing of a throat, before the King continued.

“Your magician said, and I quote, “all will still drop dead in a month’s time, if your son does not retrieve the dragon’s scale,” followed almost immediately by a cackle. Your mother hit him over the head with a vase for that one. Quite satisfying, when he went down,” the King said.

“Chris would deserve that,” Dan agreed darkly, meeting the King’s eyes with just a glimmer from within his own hood. He wasn’t about to show the royals his face - he would work with them, yes, but trust them? Not as far as he could throw them.

Still, the King smiled at him, and Dan inclined his head once, slowly.

Dan talking with his father like this made tenderness bubble in Phil’s gut. This was a man who was not truly evil, not like the sorcerer. Whatever reason Dan had had for casting a similar curse on Phil’s Uncle… surely, he could forgive. No, he would forgive.

“But on to business,” the King continued curtly. “We’ve discovered that dragons prefer cramped spaces located in high places -” Phil’s stomach lurched, - “and our best bet are the mountain caves located between the three borders to the West. We have reason to believe there may be a dragon hidden in one of them, but unfortunately, there is no way to know for sure. For all the treasures stolen, not one person has seen where he has flown away,” the King explained, sounding almost defeated.

Dan perked up at what the King was saying, studying the map on the table before him carefully. He knew this area, knew of treasures out to the Western border, and might actually have something to add to this conversation. So he interrupted cheerfully, "Oh, actually, I might be able to help you there."

All eyes turned to Dan, but he quite liked the attention, so it didn't really phase him.

With a squeeze to Phil's fingers under the table, Dan continued, "I was out West a month ago when I was… acquiring some goods, and I met with another… friend who lives out that way. He said something had come in and stolen away his entire stash - mostly gold, with the odd jewel thrown in." Dan kept his tone as nonchalant as he could, considering he was discussing thievery with the actual Royal Family themselves. "My friend said there had been reports of sheep and livestock going missing, too, and someone saw something flying in the sky. That was over near the North-Western border, here." Dan pointed it out on the map.

The King leaned over, examining the area, and Dan expected a rebuke. He was still not expecting this man, this King, to be happy with Dan, and especially not with the prospect of Dan taking his youngest son on a potentially life-threatening journey with no other support. Especially after what Chris had said yesterday, when he’d revealed all about Phil’s Uncle and the way he had died.

Dan didn’t want to think about that. His involvement with Phil’s Uncle’s death was something that was going to haunt him for a very long time.

Phil looked up in surprise when Dan spoke up, offering more information than he perhaps had to for the King. His fingers twitched in Dan's hold, and he hid a smile to himself, enjoying the way Dan curtailed around the fact that he and his friend were thieves. It was clear and obvious enough, but smartly avoided so nothing could be pinned directly to him.

As Phil looked back up, he found his father staring at Dan as well, a very fond grin on his face that matched Phil's own. It was good to know his thief would be accepted then, especially after last night.

The great reveal of the cause of their uncle’s death still buzzed in the back of Phil’s mind. He could feel the pain, the stings of betrayal, but he knew, as he looked at his father, that they could get passed this. If the King could still look at Dan with fondness after what he had done to their family, than Phil could too.

And Phil did. Phil thought he always would.

Squeezing Dan’s fingers in his, Phil shoved the thoughts aside for now.

What Dan got instead of any rebuke was an approving nod, much to his astonishment.

"Very good.” The King looked appraisingly over the map, pointing swiftly at one particular spot. “Looks like these caves here will be your best bet, then. It's a long journey. Will you manage?"

"I've been before," Dan shrugged easily enough. "Not to the mountains, but I'm pretty sure I know enough not to get Phil killed." He smirked slightly, unable to resist a light jab as he glanced at his prince with soft eyes. "He's clumsy, but I'm clever, so I'm sure I'll stop him accidentally killing us both."

“Hey!” Phil shouted. “I’m quite capable of protecting myself, thanks,” he complained, but he wasn’t really offended. In fact, he was warmed by Dan’s care for him, and as he listened to his brother and the King laugh, he could feel laughter of his own bubbling up in his chest.

“On the contrary, I’ll be glad to know that someone is keeping my boy safe,” the King replied

When the King turned back to Phil, his expression was grave, determined. “Make no mistake, Philip. That creature hoarding treasure is a Dragon, that, I am sure of, and they are just as dangerous as legend has told. Many, many years ago, I faced a Dragon much larger than the one rumored here, and nearly lost my life to it. Do not underestimate its strength.”

The words struck Phil like no other had. He’d never known someone who’d faced a dragon before, the creatures were so rare in this century, and yet here was his father, the King who had raised Phil, telling him that he once had faced these creatures, and just managed to survive.

Terror tried to fill him then, but Phil would not let it. He balled his fingers into fists at his sides, sat up far straighter still, and nodded his head.

“I understand, father.”

The King stared at him, his eyes boring into Phil’s, fierce and determined and everything that Phil had always known them to be. For the first time in his life, Phil met that gaze with determination and fierceness of his own.

Finally, the King nodded his head curtly, and turned away.

“Alright. So. Dragons are deep sleepers, according to our books. They will not awaken until their sleep cycle is done, but the timing is unclear. It seems to depend on their size, how long they will sleep, but a low estimate is at least twelve hours, so this will be your time frame. If you can sneak up on the dragon in these caves and wait until he sleeps, you will have twelve hours to take a scale.”

The words were exciting enough, and a grin started to form on Phil’s face at this as he realized that this might actually be possible, that they might actually be able to steal a fresh scale from the dragon’s back without threat to their own life, but just as his expression was brightening, his father leveled another glare onto him that made Phil’s blood run cold.

“Let it be known, however, that Dragons need only sleep rarely. They can go up to seven days without rest. Do you know what that means, Philip? You must find the dragon quickly, that way - that way… do not put yourself at any unnecessary risk. Wait until the dragon sleeps, no matter how long it takes. Do you understand me?”

Swallowing thickly, Phil nodded his head, and said, “Yes, father.”

His eyes were wide, and his heart was racing once more, but even as his father stared at him with that formidable glare that Phil had grown up with, Phil realized that it did not have the same effect on him that it once did.

Phil knew, in that moment, that despite what he had told his father, he would do anything to get that scale back in time.

One month.

His gaze turned down to the maps spread out on the table.

One month. How far was the border?

Beside him, Martyn nodded his head fiercely, but his expression was growing more and more haunted, exhausted, and Phil knew that he could not take much more of this.

He needed to rest, and yet, somehow, Phil knew that he would not.

The King reached across the table then, grasping hold of both of their forearms, and Phil looked back at him in shock. His father was staring at Dan.

“I mean it, boy. Protect him. He can be quite reckless when it comes to his own life. His heart, on the other hand, is hard won. Take care of each other.”

Dan looked up at him, resisting his natural impulse to make a joke or sarcastic comment. Despite the King's friendly demeanour, there was a hard line to his forehead that worried Dan a little, and he also had a shadow to his countenance. His Castle had been cursed, though - Dan supposed it was reasonable.

Dan's expression dropped to match the serious glint to the King's eye, and he dipped his head in not quite a bow. "You have my word. Your son will return safely. As for his heart..." Dan trailed away, casting a sidelong glance to Phil, "...Well, that is in good hands, too."

“Great!” the King suddenly exclaimed, startling everyone in the room as he slammed his palms flat on the table and pushed himself from his chair. His smile was quite suddenly back, and as Phil stared up at his eyes, he saw nothing but love and acceptance.

Dan had well and truly won his father over; not that it had been in anyway hard, but… well, it was a surprise, still, to Phil.

“I think it’s time to get this show on the road. Philip, take your thief to the royal guard headquarters and get yourselves suited up. You have a long journey ahead of you, so please take any and everything that you might need on this journey. Your brother and I will remain here. While we are taking the sorcerer at his word, there is no harm in doing a little research of our own on this curse. Perhaps there will be another way…” he trailed off, glancing around the table at the large scattering of books, before turning a smile back up at Phil once more.

There was a tenseness behind his eyes.

“Take care of yourselves, and please, see your mother before you go. If you have a moment to spare, pop back up for some debriefing, maybe a map if I can find a ruddy copy that’s actually relevant.”

At that, Phil could do nothing more than nod his head in agreement, and stand as Dan took his hand in his, and helped him from his seat. The movement was quick, but Phil did not stumble, and then Dan was giving a little mocking bow to the King that honestly shocked Phil more than anything.

Was that a little bit of respect, in the action? Phil wasn’t sure.

Turning from the King, Dan instead faced Martyn again, chewing his lip.

"...We'll do our best to save her," Dan said simply, with no trace of teasing to his tone.

Dan’s small reassurance made Phil’s heart sing. He knew his thief did not like the crown prince on any level, and yet he was giving Phil’s brother comfort.

Grinning to himself, Phil nodded to his brother.

“I swear on my life,” he agreed.

Dan whirled, then, his cloak flaring out behind him, and then he and Phil were gone, heading back around the large stacks of books and scrolls held in their library, and back through the suffocating corridor into the castle.

Dan was itching to stay in this library, and it physically hurt to walk past the rest of these scrolls and books without stopping to read any of them, but he knew they had a job to do.

Dan's nose wrinkled a little at the idea of dressing like a Royal Guardsman, though, and he leaned over to mutter in Phil's ear, "I hope you know I have absolutely no intention of wearing any of your awful armour."

Laughing, and pressing his hips against Dan's just because he could and because Dan had pulled him so close, Phil shook his head. "I would never expect you to," he murmured back, "but you don't have to worry about that. I don't plan on wearing my armor either. It is far too heavy to wear on a long journey. Besides, the offer wasn't my father telling us what to wear. It was merely his way of saying we could take anything we need," Phil explained softly. He wanted to look at Dan's face but his hood was up, so he kept his gaze straight ahead instead. Besides, he needed to focus on keeping his breathing even, so that he wouldn’t panic in these musty, claustrophobic hallways.

"I see," Dan murmured in response. He had to admit, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to wear any of the armour - it looked heavy and uncomfortable and like it would restrict his movements. Phil in armour, though - that was another matter entirely. It made him look like a knight straight out of a fairy tale, and Dan liked the look on him. So he was maybe a little disappointed that Phil wasn't planning on wearing armour either.

Oh well. Dan was sure he'd have plenty of opportunities to see Phil in his armour in the future.

...If they even had a future. Even if they were successful in catching the dragon, which was doubtful enough, there was the problem of what would happen after. Dan couldn't imagine a life spent in the castle, no matter how much he wanted to be with Phil. Dan's place was out in the desert, where he could be free.

Oh, how he itched to give Phil that same freedom.

Giving his head a shake, Dan pulled himself back to the present. They were leaving the library now. Dan cast one more longing glance back at the rows and rows of books. He'd come back to read them, eventually. He swore it, even if he had to break in.

With so much on Phil’s mind, and a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that Dan was very much so his, and sticking around to protect Phil on his journey, the walk through the corridor leading to the palace library wasn’t as bad. Phil could still feel his chest getting tight, and there was a moment where his vision went black at the edges a bit, but he merely held tighter to Dan’s hand and managed to make it through the way he always did.

Once at the other end, back in the open hallways of the castle, Phil felt the tension in his chest release, and realized his gait had become more even. At least it was merely Dan at his side, someone who might once have made fun of Phil for his fear, but now merely chose to comfort him.

He ducked his face to hide a smile at the thought.

Once back in the corridors, Dan checked that his hood was firmly down, and turned to Phil, allowing Phil to lead them through this unfamiliar part of the castle. Dan pursed his lips, thinking - they would have a hard journey in front of them. Dan was used to travelling, but he had no idea how prepared Phil was for what they were about to do.

"Phil," Dan started, walking close to his Prince's side. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but exactly how clueless are you when it comes to travelling in the desert? It is a long way to this cave. I need to know just how much I need to teach you before we set off." Dan grinned a little. "And don't go getting all offended on me, cute as it is. I'm trying to get a job done, here."

"Are you always this superior when you're getting a job done?" Phil teased back, though he was slightly offended. He had to remind himself that Dan had no clue where and what kind of conditions Phil was used to and trained to work through.

"Excuse you," Dan huffed. "You'll be glad of my superiority when I'm saving your hide from some desert wolf, my Prince."

Snorting, Phil jostled Dan's side again and rolled his eyes. He was knowledgeable enough to fight off an attacking desert wolf on his own, but if Dan wanted to tease him about it and act like he was the stronger of the two of them, than far be it from Phil to prove him wrong.

Still, as he thought on Dan's question, Phil realized that for all his training, he had so rarely actually traveled through the deserts for more than a few days at a time. This journey would take a week at the very least, not to mention they wouldn't be returning to a city or town at the end of the journey.

“If I am honest with you, my thief, and put aside my pride for a moment, I have only ever traveled through the desert a few days at a time, and even then, with many more experienced men at my side. I know only how to prepare for a long journey outside of our desert here, not how to survive many long nights in the desert alone,” he admitted, clearing his throat but keeping his gaze locked ahead. Phil didn’t much like being weak in front of Dan, as silly as it seemed.

It was just… Phil didn’t want Dan to think that Phil could not survive in his thief’s world, when that was everything that Phil wanted for their future.

His lips twitched at the thought of having any future with Dan.

“I have spent far more time traveling through forests, than desert. I know the ones to the East as well as the back of my hand. For this journey, however… you will have to be my brains, but I do expect you to teach me all that you know,” he continued, voice taking on more authority and insistence now. He turned his gaze to Dan, despite not being able to see his face around his hood, hoping that Dan would take him seriously.

Phil was sick of being dragged around like royalty. Sure, fine, he was a prince, but he needed to be able to fend for himself. He was tired of those guards who he was supposed to be in charge of leading him around like a horse to water, but never actually letting him see where to get said water on his own. He needed guidance, for once, and, if he were to someday travel the world with Dan, which he wanted very much, he’d need to learn how to take direction from his thief.

Dan pursed his lips. To be fair to Phil, it sounded like he'd been better trained than Dan had been expecting - like he at least knew the very basics of travelling, and he’d been in the desert before, even if it wasn’t alone. Dan could work with that.

"I can teach you," Dan nodded in agreement, lacing his fingers together with Phil's. "You'll have to be patient, and actually do as you're told for once, but if you swallow your pride and actually listen to me, I'll make a traveller out of you yet." Dan couldn't resist a little cheeky wink.

"What do you mean, ‘for once’. I do as I'm told. Just not when it's you demanding it," Phil teased back.

Dan huffed aloud at Phil's continued teasing, though it was difficult to fight the smile that wanted to spread across his face. He settled on a teasing frown. "I'll have you know that I'm a lot more interesting to obey than any of your former teachers."

Oh, how Phil loved to mess with Dan, and having someone in his life he could tease like this just made him feel more at ease, like things were coming together fine. It wasn't often that anyone thought it okay to play with Phil, not even when he'd been a child. There was something about his title, titles, that made people think they could not have common camaraderie with him.

Phil was sick of the stilted conversation from his subordinates. He didn’t even like thinking of them that way, and yet, they always pushed the issue until they sat in this strange limbo of them bowing down to him, while also chastising him and making all of his calls for him in the field.

Phil was a great leader, his men all agreed on that, but they did not like him to lead outside of the city gates. There was something, they thought, unnecessary for Phil to learn how to survive in the wilderness, as Phil thought he should.

Dan followed Phil out of the Castle, taking a moment to pause and survey the courtyards, memorising the Castle's layout - as much as he could while they were walking, anyway. He had a feeling he'd want to remember his way around this place, that they might be coming back here in the future, and maybe not on such friendly terms. Dan grimaced a bit. He never thought he'd feel at home in a castle, but with Phil by his side, it was hard to feel uncomfortable.

Phil led Dan through the courtyards of the palace to the Royal Guard guardhouse, breathing in deeply to finally be past the stuffy halls of the castle and back outside. He didn’t feel free, exactly, tired of these same old gardens by now, but he did feel better than when he was cooped up with all of the other royals.

Arriving at the guardhouse was a new experience for Dan, and not one he was sure he would ever be eager to repeat. There were guards stationed everywhere, covering every exit, and that alone was enough to make Dan tense and reach for one of his daggers. He still had an ingrained instinct to attack or flee at every glint of silver armour. If it weren’t for Phil tightly gripping onto his elbow, Dan probably would have bolted.

The guards stationed at all the exits nodded politely at the two of them as they moved, looking weary but alert, and Phil led Dan down the path to his headquarters. He wondered if Dan had ever really seen them up close before, but didn’t ask as he led them both through the back door.

He was most definitely going to need his thief’s help throwing together a few bags for travel. After all, Phil didn’t truly know what they were going to need most on this trip.

“Just the necessities,” Phil murmured as he pushed through a door to where the guard kept their supplies.

That’s when it occurred to Phil that Dan himself must have supplies to get him through long journeys like this, and his mind flashed over to an image of Dan’s home that he’d talked about on more than one occasion now. A sudden excitement rushed through Phil at the idea of maybe, just maybe, getting to see the elusive thief’s home.

"If you don't mind me asking, my thief," Phil stated calmly, leaning in close to whisper in Dan’s ear and trying to hide his unbearable excitement at the thought, "Where does my thief live? Will I one day get to see your home? Perhaps today, if you need to pick up anything?" Phil wheedled.

At Phil's whining tone, Dan arched a brow and snorted. "Oh, so now you want to see my home, after dragging me all around your God-forsaken Castle for the past few days? And here I thought you weren't interested in my treasure."

"I think I've stolen the best piece of treasure you've got there anyway, my thief, so far be it from me to force you into anything you don't want," Phil teased,

Dan rolled his eyes, but he leaned into Phil's side a little, shivering as he felt Phil's lips right by his ear. "Well, you've got your priorities right, at least, if you think I'm the greatest treasure. Not so sure you've stolen me yet, though. Might need a bit more convincing." His Prince had moved ever closer to him, until they were pressed right against each other as they moved on into the guardhouse, but it didn’t ease the tension in Dan’s body any. He was still nervous about being surrounded by guards, and instinctively kept his hood pulled down as low as he could.

"I could do with going back to pick up some supplies though," Dan acquiesced, flicking a quick glance around the guardhouse. There were adequate supplies, more than anything Dan had managed to steal for himself, but he did need some of his own familiar belongings. "All my hunting gear is there, and I need a change of clothes. Are you ready to see a thief's lair, my Prince? Not as lavish as your Castle, perhaps, but pleasing in other ways, I think."

Growing just that little bit more excited, Phil grinned. "Oh, I am more than ready to finally track down my great thief's lair."

Once in the supply room, Phil moved straight to the packs his men kept empty and cleaned in the far corner, grabbing two before heading back to the middle of the room. It was then that he looked at Dan, bit his lip, and realized he didn’t really want to have to ask for help on what to pack, so he turned back around and started gathering supplies that he’d once been ordered to pack when he went traveling with his men.

Dan arched a brow. He recognised that look - that look that said Phil had no idea what he was really doing. Well, Dan could fix that. It wasn’t every day that he got taken into one of the richest places in the country and was told he could take what he liked. So Dan wasted no time in pushing aside and taking over, rapidly picking up supplies and tossing them to the pile if he deemed them worthy. Dan had to admit, it made a nice change to get his hands on this kind of equipment without having to steal it in a rush.

He tossed Phil a teasing grin, eyes glinting wickedly, and flung a pile of supplies at him. "Pack that up. I'll sit and watch you and think about what I need from my cave."

Phil's eyes narrowed at Dan, even as he tossed a pile of supplies and a bag at him to begin packing for the two of them, and neatly stepped around it as Dan moved to sit on the ground. Before he could get far, Phil reached out and caught hold of his arm, dragging Dan up and in until he was flush to Phil's chest, hands caught between their bodies.

Phil might be shorter than Dan, but he knew how to be intimidating, and he stared up at Dan with sharp eyes. His mouth hovered close to Dan’s not quite touching, but enough for the two of them to feel each other’s breath against their lips.

Phil smirked at Dan, whose eyes had a gone a little wide in surprise, and tilted his head just the tiniest bit.

"How's this for convincing?" he whispered, eyes slipping closed as he pulled Dan in until their lips were touching once more.

The feeling was like an electric shock as it took over Phil, starting at the base of his spine and working its way up to his neck. He shook in Dan’s hold, but Dan was so stunned, he seemed unable to react to Phil’s kiss right away. Phil used this to his advantage.

For the first time ever, it was Phil was in charge of their kiss, demanding and possessive as he took control. He’d learned much from Dan by now, and as he threaded his arms around Dan’s waist to drag him in close, he sucked at his lips was as much demanding force as he could muster while still intending to be gentle.

Dan’s lips were slow in reacting to him, and yet they did, seeming to accept that Phil wanted to show Dan just how much he thought of him as his. Dan didn’t try to take back control, merely melting under Phil’s touch and going soft in a way that Phil had never expected.

It made him warm to his core, and he slipped his tongue past Dan’s lips, tilting his head a bit more to force Dan to do the same, as he made the kiss deeper. Phil could only wish that he were taller than Dan, so he could force him to crane his neck back and feel small and dominated for once. Instead, Phil merely worked with what he could, and kept their bodies pressed close together as he used every last technique Dan had dropped into his arsenal in the last few days.

Phil smirked when he managed to get Dan to let out a breathy little noise that wasn’t quite a moan, but was more than a sigh, and reached up to thread his fingers through Dan’s hair, tilting his head back just a bit even as he had to push up on his toes to keep their lips connected.

It was the best kiss Phil had ever given, and he hoped that it made clear to Dan that Phil had most definitely stolen him.

When Phil finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead to Dan's, grinning.

"You're mine, King of Thieves," he insisted.

Dan had been expecting an answer to his teasing, yes, but he hadn't expected that. His mouth felt red raw by the time Phil was done kissing him, and yet he had no complaints about the feeling. In fact, for the first time, he felt claimed, and he liked it.

Dan blinked a few times, unable to stop himself pressing a finger to his lips once Phil drew away. They were still tingling in a way Dan had rarely experienced before, and never had he let someone take so much control before.

Phil was… interesting. Definitely interesting. Dan thought he could lose his head to this man, if he could just let go of his last fears.

He gave his head a little shake, still mostly speechless, and stared at Phil, who was still in his arms. Or rather, Dan was in his arms, because Phil had him tightly by the waist while Dan's arms were slung around Phil's neck. They were pressed together, intimate in a way Dan rarely let himself be with anyone.

He blinked again at Phil, not even able to bring himself to smirk. Instead, he felt his lips twitching into a true smile where his eyes crinkled up and he looked like a fool. Dan was a fool, because he couldn't stop himself from answering Phil.

"I'm yours, my Prince. Always yours."

A fool maybe, but a happy fool.

Phil had only ever seen Dan smile once before, and it had been nothing like this. His dimple popped, impossibly deep, and his eyes crinkled up in this really bright way that looked almost foreign on his face. The look made Dan appear far younger than he usually did, and Phil had the impression it was the stress and anger that put the years on Dan's face.

Seeing Dan's face split in half like that with joy made Phil's own expression crack into an answering grin, his heart doing somersaults at Dan's words. Craving affection and smiling far too hard to try kissing Dan again, Phil instead chose to rub his nose against Dan's.

Earlier, Dan had done something similar, something more intimate but just as affectionate, by running the tip of his nose along the edge of Phil's jaw line, and Phil wanted to try that too, but he was afraid it would come off stupid rather than hot like it had when Dan had done it before.

So, instead, Phil merely drew away slightly so he was looking into his thief's eyes all over again, and tilted his head.

"I suppose we should get packing, but I'm far happier holding you in my arms," Phil teased, not even tempted enough by Dan's dimple to willingly move his arms away from around Dan's waist.

Dan rolled his eyes a little, but he nudged back at Phil's nose. The affectionate touch was completely new, but Dan thought he could get used to it. It made a new feeling arise in him, something softer and entirely more dangerous. Something that said he'd do anything if Phil asked him to.

Dan blinked himself back to the present and let out another sigh, though he was still grinning. "I suppose I could let you hang onto me the whole time we travel. Might be kind of difficult to walk, but you could try it; I know I'm irresistible."

He snickered softly, unable to stop himself leaning down to rest his forehead against Phil's. There was something new and magical about having this man in his arms. Phil was so warm and happy and strong as he held Dan against him, and Dan kind of wanted to just melt against his chest and stay there forever.

But they had a job to do.

"We're not even out of your castle yet, come on." Dan slipped out of Phil's hold reluctantly, dragging him back over to the bags.

Dan sounded so put upon offering to let Phil hold him like this the entire journey, and Phil threw his head back to laugh at it, the sound bursting out of him in sharp surprise. He hadn't been expecting that, but he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that wanted that almost more than anything else. To just hold onto Dan forever, in some way. He figured they could get away with holding hands, at the very least, bumping hips from time to time. Maybe Dan would even let Phil hold him when they slept.

Phil's laughter remained Dan's favourite sound in the entire world. He was going to spend every day of his life trying to get that happy loud noise out of him, especially when Phil's tongue did the thing where it stuck out of the side of his mouth.

Dan pointed again at the pile of belongings again, arching a brow. "I thought I told you to pack that up. We need to get a move on if we're going to reach my cave by nightfall."

Pouting when Dan finally pulled away, Phil allowed Dan to drag him back to the bags and the countless items at their feet. There was more than one object that Phil hadn't even considering bringing, and as he picked up what looked like a small carving knife, he turned to Dan with a raised brow.

His thief didn't reply, merely raising a brow back at Phil and nodding as if to tell him to get a move on, so Phil leaned back over and continued shoving item after item into the bag he assumed he was going to have to carry.

"You live in a cave?" Phil muttered, becoming a little tense and worried that it would be terrifyingly too far under ground. Clearing his throat, Phil shook his head, taking a deep, calming breath. He still wanted to see Dan's home, but it was intimidating being forced to face his fear. Already, he knew he would be half mid-panicking when they finally reached the dragon, as they were apparently known for preferring cramped spaces underground or buried into mountains.

Phil glanced over at Dan, who was indeed sitting on the ground with the second bag propped packed in his lap, staring off and clearly thinking.

Dan made himself comfortable on the ground, watching as Phil actually obeyed him for once and started to pack up. It didn't take long for Dan to get lost in thought. He'd never had a travel companion before - the other people he met tended to stay in one place, whereas Dan liked to roam, to cover as much ground as possible. Plus, he kind of had to stay on the move if he didn't want to get caught. Having Phil by his side would be something new, and Dan felt a little thrum of excitement at the thought. Someone to chat with, to tease, to hold hands with and lie next to at night - Dan had never dreamed he'd actually find that. Yet here he was.

He came back to himself at the slight fear in Phil's tone, and quick as anything, was in front of him again, gently taking his hand. "Don't fret, my Prince. It's more of a - shelter, than a cave. It's just under a rock, but it's not very cramped. It's - well, you'll see."

Dan managed a small smirk, even though the thought of having Phil in his home was more than alien. Dan had never brought anyone there before, let alone a Prince. It was Dan's private, special place, and the only space he made truly his own.

Phil turned, eyes wide with surprise, when Dan surged up to him, taking his hand and looking straight into his eyes, ready with reassuring words. They'd come a long way from Dan forcing Phil into cramped spaces to mess with him, to promising Phil that where they were going would be nothing like Phil's greatest fear. Squeezing Dan's fingers in his, Phil nodded his head. "No one… no one knows, you know. Except for you. About… that," he mumbled. "I'm not usually trapped anywhere long enough for people to notice. I've got pretty good control over it," he explained, running his free hand through his hair, and fluffing it up slightly once he realized he'd probably ruined the way it fell in his face.

Dan was a little surprised to hear that no one other than him knew about Phil's fear. If Phil was right, though, he must be very good at hiding it. Dan narrowed his eyes a little at the thought of Phil having to suffer through something like that just because other people thought he had to.

And then Dan realised that he, himself, had done that in the past, and he couldn't help but laugh slightly.

At Phil's surprised look, Dan explained himself with a small grin. "Sorry. I was just thinking - I'm the only one who knows, and yet I forced you to chase me underground. Sorry about that, by the way. Won't do it again."

Dan tried to stay as blasé as he could, not wanting Phil to realise quite how monumental it was for Dan to be apologising to someone.

The stilted way Dan offered his apology made Phil think maybe it was difficult for him. Phil didn't know if it was the apologizing itself, or the fact that Dan felt bad for using Phil's fear against him like that, but it still warmed him to hear Dan trying for him, and he shrugged, trying to get across that Phil wasn't going to hold it against him.

Then, he turned back to the bag at his feet, and finished shoving the items Dan had given him into them. His cheeks were slightly red at having admitted that to Dan, at having to even talk about his fear in general, so he focused his attention back at the task on hand until it was complete. Then, he stood, and turned to look back at Dan.

His gaze trailed over Dan’s outfit, taking in the cloak and its pockets lined with gold. His brow furrowed as he realized he’d never seen Dan without it, and yet, surely he couldn't wear it all the time if it was stuffed with treasures?

"Come to think of it, what do you normally wear when you're hunting, Dan?" Phil kept his voice hushed on his name, just in case someone was around and listening, trying to discern the secret identity of Phil’s courter, or worse, the King of Thieves should they put two and two together. "I don't figure you'd carry your riches around when you're taking down a feast for yourself," he mused, shrugging his pack onto his bag and straightening up properly.

When the last item was in Phil’s bag, Dan straightened and shouldered his own as he took Phil's hand in his again, beginning to walk out of the Guardhouse. "You're right,” he agreed, getting a teasing grin on his face once more, “I save my cloak for when I want to flaunt myself at foolish Guards who try to catch me." Dan grinned at Phil at that, playfully bumping his hip.

"I have different hunting clothes. And a shield for when I need it, though usually my crossbow does the job. No armour, though." Dan gave a shudder at the thought "Heavy, stupid metal."

As Dan leaned into Phil's side, Dan could feel himself properly relaxing. Knowing they would be out of the castle soon made it much easier to be himself, and having Phil by his side made everything better. They couldn't leave just yet, though.

Dan turned to Phil, eyes softening for a moment. Phil was about to leave home, after all, and a family. Dan couldn't really imagine what that felt like.

"Don't forget to say goodbye to your mother." Dan kept his tone as even as he could. "That's what the King said. Remember?"

After both men had shouldered their bags, Phil allowed Dan to take his hand again, tangling their fingers together readily. His brows shot up at the idea of Dan with a hunting bow, though, chuckling at the mutter about armor. "I've never been able to master the bow. You must be quite the marksmen. I've always been better at hand-to-hand, close fighting," Phil explained, itching to talk more so he could divulge more information about Dan. He really did want to know everything.

He turned to Dan when he pulled them both a stop, however, watching the way Dan's eyes softened, and it hit Phil that Dan probably understood Phil's worries just then better than he'd ever realized. Maybe that was why Dan was so determined to help Phil. It was clear that Dan had no family, he'd admitted as much himself. The look in his eye told Phil how important it was to Dan that Phil got a chance to say goodbye, and his heart ached for him.

"Yes, I remember," Phil murmured in agreement, clearing his throat. He didn't want to cry, then. This was something he needed to do, and while he'd been away from home a few times before, it had never been for more than a few days, let alone as dangerous as this mission was going to be. "And we'll have to make a quick run down to the libraries to talk to my father. If you're in a hurry, perhaps we should split up?" Phil requested, biting his lip. It wasn't that he wanted to keep Dan away from his mother, he was just fully aware that Dan currently had a time frame for them in his head.

Dan bit his lip and nodded. He could understand Phil maybe wanting some time to himself to say goodbye to his mother alone, and it would save them time to split up. Also, Dan hadn't had a second to himself since the failed wedding, and much as he wanted to be around Phil, it was a little hard to get his thoughts straight when Phil's eyes and face and lips were a constant distraction.

"Good plan," Dan forced himself to say, and disentangled himself completely from Phil for the first time in ages. "I can go talk to your father and brother. I promise to be respectful." Dan's cheeky grin promised the exact opposite, however. He reached forward and touched Phil's cheek, eyes soft once more. "Tell your mother I'll bring you back alive."

Wacking Dan on the arm, Phil grinned, a reprimand on the tip of his tongue for Dan to behave himself, despite knowing that he most likely wouldn't, but his words were cut short when Dan interrupted him by reaching up with gentle fingers, leaning in close, and whispered a very serious command. Swallowing hard, Phil nodded his heart shortly, gone mute with surprise and suppressed emotion. He could feel the tenderness in Dan's fingertips, could see it in his eyes, and knew how sincere he was.

It scared Phil a little, because there was something about the words that made him feel as though Dan would let himself fall to make sure Phil got home safe, and he knew he wasn't okay with that.

Reaching up, Phil covered Dan's hand with his own, and nodded shortly once more. As soon as the lump was gone from his throat, he managed to say, "At least try and behave yourself," hoarsely.

He knew Dan could see the emotion in his eyes, and he leaned in close to press their lips together chastely just one more time. He knew they'd be next to each other again soon, but the well of emotion had brought out something in Phil.

They were going to talk about this later. They were going to have a very long, drawn out discussion over Dan potentially considering sacrificing himself for Phil. He didn't know it for sure, knew his thief was more clever and selfish than that, but there was a pit in Phil's stomach that concerned him far more than it probably should.

Releasing himself from Dan finally, Phil pulled away. "Do you remember your way to the libraries?" he asked, already knowing the answer, and nodded curtly when Dan nodded to reassure him. "Alright. We'll meet back at the West Entrance, at our fountain. No one should bother you there."

After making their parting words, Phil moved to head up to Princess Cornelia's rooms. Though her and his brother had not quite finished their vows, it was difficult for Phil to think of her as anything else, now. She was his brother's wife by technicality if nothing more.

The walk was silent. Phil's head was spinning now that he was away from Dan, and it was disorienting because he had so much to think on. So much had happened. So much, and in only a few short days. It was difficult to ride that emotional wave all the way through when Phil kept taking pit stops to think of the way Dan touched and kissed him.

There was so much to sort out, but Phil felt too giddy and full of love to focus on any of that, to worry about any of that, when he just wanted Dan.

He wondered if Dan felt the same.

To top it all of, the perilous situation of his family hung a heavy weight on Phil’s shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to protect and save them, unsure how prolonged exposure to the Castle itself would affect everyone. He knew keeping the castle on quarantine was the best option they had right now, though, knew that, at the very least, if he did return with the dragon scale, those who had been effected would surely be close enough to feel the weight of the cure.

That was more important to Phil than almost anything else. He knew there would be chaos here, when he left, that the royals would tote their status and insist on being released to head home, to live out their days with loved ones, but the guards and Phil’s father and brother would keep them here. Besides, it was the sorcerer and the sorcerer alone preventing them from falling into comas. Phil could only hope that was enough to keep them sedated and calm inside the castle walls for the next month.

God, Phil hoped it would not take a month to return home. Surely, surely that would only make things worse. He didn’t want to be arrived home at the very last of moments, only to find that the cure had failed.

Just the thought of how little time he and Dan had made him move faster down the corridors of the castle, until finally, he arrived in front of Cornelia’s room.

The hallways were deserted, unlike yesterday, except for a few guards stationed at key points around the hall, including in front of Cornelia’s room. Phil knew their faces, but other than a curt nod, they ignored each other. Through the door in front of him, Phil could hear very little, and he was certain that the royals in the rest of the rooms of the hall were fast asleep tucked up in their beds right now, or otherwise too cowed into submission to bother the Queen or her ward any longer.

Where were Cornelia’s parents? Phil hadn’t heard word of them since last night, when they’d been too quiet to speak up in front of Phil and the sorcerer he’d brought with him. The father’s silence hadn’t surprised Phil, but the mother’s had. In fact, Phil was surprised she hadn’t been the one to rouse him from bed much earlier that morning than even Martyn had.

Phil’s brow furrowed, but he shook the thoughts and concern away as he moved to knock on the door.

“It’s me, mother. Philip.”

There was the sound of quick shuffling on the other side of the door, and then it was swinging open rather quickly to reveal the Queen in all of her splendor and glory; which is to say, Phil always thought she looked beautiful, even when there were obvious tear stains on her cheeks, and her outfit consisted of nothing more than the stripped down version of her royal wear for the wedding.

Unused to seeing his mother so broken down and weary, Phil offered her the tiniest of smiles, and teasingly said, “Beautiful as always.”

The Queen laughed, the sound clearly surprised out of her, and grabbed for Phil’s hand. Her eyes were watery still, and her fingers shaking as she tugged her son into the room and shut the door behind him. Phil, meanwhile, merely allowed her to tug him around as she saw fit, until he was being dragged into the most wonderful of hugs.

His mum’s arms were warm and tight around him, her body a solid presence and reminder that she was still alive. Phil’s arms wound around his mum in return, and he buried his face into her hair for a moment of peace, inhaling that wonderfully familiar scent that only came from a mum.

By the time the two of them were pulling away from each other, Phil’s eyes and cheeks were wet, and his shoulder damp from the tears of his mother. Her hands were on his shoulders as she stared up at him with a watery smile.

Gently, she reached up and patted his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” she whispered, lips trembling.

That was all Phil needed to see to know that his mother knew exactly why he was here, and where he was going.

Offering a gentle smile in return, Phil ducked down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

The Queen giggled, and swatted Phil away, her cheeks red as color finally began to return to her features. It was a welcome sight, especially in that moment, where Phil wanted nothing more than a memory of his mother’s smiling face to carry him through his travels.

“Stop it, boy,” she complained, but Phil knew she secretly loved it. The reprimand meant nothing as he laughed too.

The moment broken slightly, Phil finally let his mother go to glance about the room and take a few steps closer to where he could see Cornelia. She looked no better or worse than she had last night; Phil didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. His gaze continued about the room, however, taking in the locked door where he was certain the sorcerer was, if the smoke billowing out from underneath the door jamb was anything to go by, but he never once located Cornelia’s parents, who he’d expected to find about her bedside.

“Where are -?”

“The dungeons,” the Queen replied before Phil could even finish the question. Startled by this turn of events, Phil whirled around with eyes wide and horrified.

“The dungeons?” he repeated. “Why whatever for?”

He didn’t understand. Surely, the Frila’s could not have done something to warrant them being taken away from their daughter in her time of need?

When Phil turned to look at his mother, however, she was frowning, her expression tired and almost… angry, despite the tear stains making her look eternally sad. She was staring at Cornelia, apparently heartbroken, but eventually, she returned her gaze to Phil’s.

“The sorcerer enjoys causing trouble, it would seem, but mostly he enjoys exposing people for who they are. We heard quite a lot last night, but it would appear that the Frila’s themselves were… involved with the witch who cast the spell.”

The words were like a slap to the face for Phil, who could do nothing but stare with his mouth wide open while his mum spoke. Phil had always known that Mrs. Frila, at the very least, was nothing but a leech on society, ready to do anything to climb the social ladder, but this? Putting her own daughter’s life at risk, just before she was to marry the Crown Prince?

Phil was flabbergasted. He didn’t understand.

His mum seemed to recognize this, as she continued on.

“They were hoping their daughter would die, and ruin the Crown Prince’s life, to make a pretty penny from the pre-nup drawn up only days before the wedding, to maybe start a revolution, and have their own champion of the people set up to take our place as rulers of the people. The Frila’s… wanted nothing more than destroy our reign, even at the cost of their daughter’s life.”

Phil was thunderstruck.

His heart broke at the very words his mother was speaking, and he turned away from her quickly, not wanting to see any more of her tears, to instead stare at Cornelia.

It all made sense now; why the Frila’s had failed to speak up last night, had failed to comfort their daughter, or even appear to shed a tear. Why her mother had not kicked up the fuss Phil knew her to create in even the most ridiculous of circumstances.

They had planned to sacrifice their daughter for money, and prestige, and a new reign.

“Who? Their champion, who are they?” Phil refused to turn and look at his mother’s face as he stared at Cornelia’s.

All that he had done for these people, for all of his people, and they wanted to be rid of Phil’s family. He felt anger roiling through him for just a moment, but the longer that he stared at Cornelia, at the softness of her face, and the gentle reminder of how she supported everything that Phil’s family did, the more the anger dispersed.

He couldn’t be angry at all of his people for the actions of a few.

There were so many, he knew, that supported him and his family. In fact, Phil was almost certain that more people were on his side then against.

He shook his head.

“We don’t know. The Frila’s refused to say the name. We interviewed the guards; there has been very little talk of this “Champion.” Your father and I believe it is an isolated incident.”

Phil nodded, but otherwise didn’t speak. Instead, he moved swiftly towards Cornelia’s side, and took her hand in his.

He had always loved her as a sister. She was gentle, and kind, and funny too. She grounded Phil’s brother, and brought a different kind of light to all of their lives. Bowing his head over her hand, Phil kissed it swiftly.

“I will save you,” he told her quietly. “And when this is all over, you can leave that toxic family of yours, and be nothing but a Lester.”

Phil knew it was nothing but wishful thinking, but he thought he saw Cornelia smile for just a moment. The thought would have to be enough to carry him through.

The Queen moved up to Phil’s side and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Be safe, my son,” she whispered.

Phil’s lips were trembling when he replied, “I will. I promise.”

It took longer than Phil had been anticipating, but eventually, he managed to pull himself away from Cornelia’s bedside to instead turn his attention to his mother, who he’d actually come up here to bid goodbye. When he did, he found that she was already staring at him, her gaze searching, but kind.

She smiled at him.

“So much has happened, hasn’t it?” she asked.

Slowly, Phil nodded his head. He knew his mother so well, and yet, in that moment, he had no idea what she was thinking.

The Queen laughed, seeming to find Phil’s expression amusing, as she reached forward with gentle fingers and smoothed out his brow.

“Don’t fret, so. I know you know what you’re doing. I just miss the days where you told me everything,” she explained. “It’s been a long time since you kept any secret from me. The King of Thieves, hmm? Your father was right all along.”

She laughed, then, a welcome sound as Phil ducked his head, blushing but smiling.

“Yeah…” he agreed, bashful as ever. “I’ve just - I didn’t know myself, until close to the wedding. I wasn’t keeping secrets from you mother, I -”

“Oh shush,” the Queen interrupted, laughing again so Phil knew that she wasn’t angry. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Philip. You’re getting older, and matters of the heart have always been difficult for you. I understand. I just miss my little boy,” she explained, using one hand to lift Phil’s chin so he was staring at her once more, and the other to sweep away his fringe.

“You’ve always been so careful with your heart. I’m happy for you, my son.”

Phil’s heart nearly melted right then and there, and he laughed, eyes brightening as he thought of Dan; Dan, who had so quickly become everything that he’d ever wanted. How had they ended up here?

“He’s… more than you could imagine,” Phil replied a bit dumbly.

“A man after my own heart,” the Queen replied, pressing a hand over her heart and swooning dramatically. Phil blushed darkly once more, and moaned, “mum!” rather loudly, shoving away from her.

She merely laughed some more, and reached out to pat Phil on the cheek lightly.

“I’ve never seen you like this, so happy and carefree, despite… despite everything that’s happened in the past few days. He’s good for you, that one, I can see it already,” the Queen decided immediately. Then, she straightened up and seemed to regain control over herself. “The men in our family are so often stubborn and blind. You’ll do our name proud with a man like him by your side. But where is he? I’d like to give him a stern talking to, before he runs off with you on a suicide mission.”

Her gaze was hard as she glanced behind her, as if Dan would suddenly be there, and then turned back to Phil with a look of determination, a brow raised as she waited for an answer.

Cheeks dark red once more, Phil shrugged one shoulder helplessly.

“He’s with father. We’re preparing to leave. I’ve just come up to say goodbye,” Phil explained, and lowered his eyes. He could feel his heart sinking once more, the terror of what was to come returning until he could feel his limbs trembling once more.

There was so much on his mind, the weight on his shoulders far heavier than it had ever been.

Phil took his mother’s hand in his.

“The King of Thieves - he told me to tell you, “I’ll bring him back alive.” Mother… I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to bring us back a cure.”

**

Dan walked quickly down to the library, the feeling of Phil's last, almost-tearful kiss still tingling against his lips. The emotion in Phil's eyes had been unmistakeable. There was so much care in Phil - he had compassion for everything and everyone around him, and that both inspired and terrified Dan. Phil was a good man, but he was so much more vulnerable because of it.

Remembering that Phil had told him to try and behave himself, Dan grimaced a bit as he tugged open the library door. He kept his hood down low, not willing to reveal his face in such a public area, and without Phil by his side, Dan was feeling a lot more tense. He hadn't even realised how reassuring it was to have someone with authority walking next to him - now, Dan was forced to look over his shoulder again at every turn, in case someone asked him what he was doing there. He was still a wanted thief within these palace walls, and suddenly he couldn’t forget it.

When he finally made it back to the library, both the King and Crown Prince Martyn were still poring over the map. The King glanced up, hand going to his sword, but he relaxed once he saw it was Dan. Martyn was oblivious, instead focused still on the map with a near-permanent crease in his forehead and a look of scarily fierce determination painted all over his features.

He must be desperate to do what he could to rescue his bride.

"Greetings." Dan bowed his head, drawing in his natural impulse to make fun of the both of them and instead lifting his chin to meet the seriousness of this situation. He was Phil’s ambassador here, after all, and for that Dan could make himself sensible. Mostly. "Phil's with his mother, so I came to say we're leaving."

The King beamed. "Ah, King of Thieves! It's always a pleasure to welcome you." He got to his feet and came over to Dan’s side, and Dan had to resist the urge to shrink back. The King was a tall man, almost as tall as Dan, and even though he wasn’t in his royal regalia, this was still the King. The man Dan had hated for so long, had blamed for taking everything from him.

And now, that very same man was clasping Dan’s shoulder. "Is my son treating you well? I assume you helped yourself to our supply; you must stock up."

Dan nodded once, grinning slightly. Despite his past hatred for this man, things had come a long way. "Yes. I must say, it made a change to have help when I was stealing from you this time."

Martyn and the King shared a look, and then they were both snorting with laughter. The King studied Dan closely, and those piercing blue eyes were so similar to Phil's that Dan actually froze. This man was Phil's father, and while Dan didn't really care about his approval one way or the other, he found himself slightly intimidated by that strong stare.

"Look after him," The King said finally. "I'm trusting him to you."

Dan jerked his head once in a nod. He didn't need reminding to look after Phil - at this point it was just natural instinct.

"And go down to the kitchens before you leave," the King added. "Take as much food as you need."

Dan nodded again, more slowly. He was a little surprised at this generosity, but he wasn't going to be complaining. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say, and then the King was pulling him into a hug.

Dan froze.

"Whatever you may have done to my people," the King said quietly, "You are repaying ten fold in loving my son. If he deems you worthy - then you must be, as I always suspected, a good man."

Dan blinked, totally thrown,.

The King chuckled, stepping bacl. “I see you are confused. I was not so different to you, once - in my youth. At least, what I think you are.”

“And what do you think I am?” Dan questioned sharply, his hackles up and his mind thrown.

The King surveyed him with an oddly gentle expression - one that made Dan quiver. “I think, King of Thieves, that despite all your faults, you do what you do for good reason. I know of the black market. Do you think I am completely blind to all that goes on in my kingdom?”

Dan’s eyes widened.

“I have seen your work,” the King added. “I have seen you feeding those that I have failed to feed myself. I see you working to bring the gap between rich and poor down - which, believe it or not, is the very same work that I am doing. We are not so different, even if our methods… may not be the same.”

Dan swallowed, all breath leaving his lungs. For the King to know what he did, and not have stopped it - despite the very criminal nature of the black markets, the fact that he knew Dan stole to give those people items to trade for food, and hadn’t stopped it? That made him a very different man to the one Dan had always deemed him to be.

“I think I misjudged you,” Dan said faintly.

The King chuckled. “Probably, but I misjudged you in the beginning, too. A truce, from King to King?”

Dan actually gasped, and then flushed and ducked under his hood to hide it. Recognition. Recognition from a royal who wasn’t Phil, from the King himself.

Dan had never dreamed himself here, not even in his wildest imagination.

“Truce,” Dan agreed, and reached out to grip the King’s hand in his own.

And then the King was stepping back to wave Dan on his way.

Dan was just turning to leave when another hand grabbed his shoulder, and this time Martyn Lester was right in front of him. His eyes had a hard gleam, but his words were gentle. "I - I don't know why you're helping me, or what sordid thing you've got with my brother, but - I'm grateful. Although if you hurt my brother I will personally kill you."

Once again, Dan was brought up short. The concern in Martyn's voice was so protective, so clearly brotherly. It was giving Dan all kinds of flashbacks to how he'd been with his own little brother, years and years in the past.

Dan shook his head, then clasped Martyn's shoulder in return and said lowly, "You have my word, and a thief's honour is never broken."

“I’m trusting you,” Martyn hissed, his eyes serious as he fixed Dan with a stern, bordering on desperate, gaze. “I would - if I could, I would go - but - but I can’t leave her, I can’t - so you have to.”

“I understand.” Dan drew himself up tall and looked Martyn dead in the eyes from the depths of his hood. “I won’t let you lose her.”

Martyn stepped back, looking satisfied, and Dan turned to leave before any more Lesters could completely screw with his brain. Phil was bad enough - Dan didn't know how to cope with a whole family of them.